Paris comes to a standstill

After getting ourselves up close and personal with an earlier stage of the Tour de France, we weren't too sure what to expect when we returned to Paris for the final day of racing on Sunday. Was it madness to contemplate viewing the race from the Champs-Elysees along with hordes of others? Given that we're heading off to the Olympics in London in a few days, when most sane Londoners will be clearing out, perhaps our foray into the City of Love would be useful experience...

As it turned out, this was a fantastic day to be in Paris. The hordes were there of course, most of them lining up to visit the Louvre when we were considering this option to fill in the morning. Plan B (actually MY Plan A) had been to lose myself in the Forum des Halles, the vast underground shopping centre that was once Les Halles, the city's wholesale food market. It was closed, though.

Never too young to start training!

A stroll from the Louvre over to the Jardin de Tuileries mid-morning gave us the chance to scope out the best place for race-watching. We settled on a spot in the gardens overlooking the Rue de Rivoli. Just on the other side of the Place de la Concorde from the Champs-Elysees and about 500 metres from the finish line.

There are thousands (this may not be hyperbole) of heavy green metal chairs scattered around the gardens. Two of these found their way to our spot and we set up camp alongside two other couples of a certain vintage. Introductions made, the three couples from the UK, Norway and New Zealand settled down to spend the next ...five...hours waiting for the cyclists to arrive.

Another pic of Bruce waiting for cyclists to pass by, though no Stubbies this time

When the action did arrive, it was  so exciting. The cyclists did eight (I think) laps of the sprint circuit. By the time they whizzed by us for the final time, Bradley Wiggins was leading the Sky Train - and just about to launch Mark Cavendish to the finish line.

What an amazing finish to an amazing Tour. 

I can't believe I'm writing this... the girl who stopped going to PE in the 4th form (by hiding in the school hall) and who made reserve for her primary school's D netball team, waxing lyrical about a sporting event? (The great irony of my young life was falling for a sporty chap who grew up to become  a PE teacher!)

I digress. Somewhat. Enough said. Here's a picture to prove this blog hasn't been a figment of my over-rested brain...Au revoir.