Paris-Roubaix - blood, sweat and cobbles

"The Hell of the North" they call it - and they aren't kidding. It's supposed to refer to the number of battlefields encompassed by the route, but having watched all those bodies all over the road, well, I think the name just stands by itself.

Our coverage in the UK started with interviews from before the race - despite me shouting "get on to the live coverage!" at the tv - and some of those were priceless.

Some un-named journo to Geraint Thomas of Sky (my second team) "Does your track background help you across the cobbles?"

Well, let's think, shall we: what does a professional career on the track entail? Riding round a perfectly smooth, flat, banked, wooden track, with perfect straights and perfect curves, for a start. Not exactly like cobbles. Normally in an indoor stadium, so no wind, no rain, no dust: hmmm, not a lot like cobbles, then. Also no road furniture, no spectators within clobbering range, no stray animals, no grass, no mud, no helicopter overhead: no motorbikes churning up the dust right in front of your face when you are trying to lead the race: actually, no, nothing like riding cobbles.

Sometimes I wonder how some of these journos have the nerve...

Anyway, after a brief look at Cavendish saying that he was there for the experience and would be acting as a domestique (*pause for hysterical laughter*), at last, we got on to the racing.

Aww, poor Tom Boonen, you have to feel sorry for the guy: three times winner of this race - and after having the longest wait after a mechanical since Andy Schleck lost his bike in the Tour (that's where Matti "Here, have my bike" Breschel got his name),  he then had another fall and although he got up and carried on, he didn't finish the race.

Watching, it was clear that the Rabobank rider took Boonen out, but any suggestion that it was deliberate, as Rabobank's Maarten Tjellingi (great name) was in the lead at the time... just can't be true.

Even though feeling very sorry for Boonen, I had to be a bit cross at the same time, as Team Leopard were pushing their group on at that time, and we were just - at last - getting a good bit of Leopard coverage, when it cut to Mr Boonen and that was the last time we really saw much of the team.

And oh! those crashes! I'd heard so much about how slippery the cobbles can get in the rain, and how it normally rains at this event, but it was bone dry: yet there were still bodies all over the road. And half the time, on the tarmac sections!

There was a lovely bit where Flecha (Sky) and Lars Boom of Rabobank were having an argument about something: our Eurosport commentators had no idea what was going on, but the TV feed showed it a couple of times: Boom clearly pushed Flecha, twice - very playground - and then shouted back over his shoulder at Flecha.  I'd love to know what that was all about!

Ah, Fabu, what can we say? A great ride, a great rider,  and although we would all have loved to see him get first again, well, second wasn't bad. Although there he was, after the race, doing self-towellage! Cristin, where were you!!

And frankly, I thought Van Summeren deserved the win. He rode well, he took his chance, he pedalled and pedalled and pedalled, and while Fabian was doing heroic things overtaking the chase group, he just kept on pedalling.

And you have to love seeing him and his girlfriend/wife at the end: warning, this is the girly bit, so boys can just skip ahead or go somewhere else.

Remember "Friends" where Ross finally kissed Rachel? She's telling the girlies all about it:  "well, at first it was really gentle, and then he sort of leaned into it, ("ooh" from the girls) then he ran his fingers through my hair, ("aaaaw" from the girls) then it got sort of intense, ("aaaah" from the girls)" meanwhile in the other apartment Ross is telling the boys; "Dude, I kissed Rachel." "Tongues?" asks Joey. "Yes." he says. "Cool!" says Joey.  It's that sort of thing.

Van Summeren, who - by the way - makes Our Glorious Leader look a bit short and ever so slightly stocky,  comes off the track, press and soigneurs all around him, he pulls his girlfriend into his arms and just holds here there, tucked under his chin. OK, he's 6' 5" so she's probably accustomed to that view.... so he holds her there for a long, long moment. Then he kisses her on the forehead (she's probably accustomed to that, as well), then on the lips, bending himself in order to do so: then they exchange a few words at a distance of like an inch or two: then finally they do a big kiss. D'aaaaw! And with all those cameras around!  Excuse me while I melt a bit.

Finally they managed to get him onto the podium - crikey, he's tall! And thin! I did have the slightly unworthy thought that the podium girls were going to have a bit of difficulty kissing him: and I could imagine him thinking "If you intend to hang a medal around my neck, you are going to have to get up here on the podium with me." But as it turned out, an incredibly short man came out to do the presentation, and not only hung a medal round his neck, forcing him to bend double, but insisted on kissing him as well, forcing him to bend, er, triple! And as for the presentation cobblestone, well blimey, what a ridiculous trophy to give someone after six hours of racing, when you'd imagine they can barely hold their arms aloft, let alone a hulking great cobblestone...

So, Van Summeren:  we already know him, of course, he's the Garmin rider who, at Quatar, rode with his sleeves folded up inside so that the blue band didn't show. And in the Loope race, he was of course Garmin 2, the one having the argument with Garmin Base about rolling his sleeves up.

So if Fabian had to be beaten by someone, I'm jolly glad that it was someone with a Schleckland history.

I have nothing to say about the Basque Tour yet, as we've only managed to watch the first stage, but I have learned something: when watching tv coverage of a race, it's no good leaning to try to get the camera to swing round a bit so that you can check out your team's riders.... is it just me that did that?