Two days to go - and we're Trekking!

Yay, jump up and down with excitement, only two days to go and it's Le Tour!

Even better, Trek have announced today that they have managed to claw the UCI licence out of Mr Becca's greedy little fingers bring negotiations to a successful conclusion with Mr Becca, and they now have the UCI licence belonging to Leopard SA.

They are looking for a main-name sponsor, they said, but if they don't find one before officially taking over the team, next season, they will ride under the name Trek.

*chorus of "Weee're Trekking, we're at the Tour de France!"*

So, how  much good news is this?

Let's check our requirements for next season:

1) Get rid of Mr Bruyneel.  Check.
2) Get rid of Mr Becca. Check.
3) Get Andy back to top form.  Check. Well, technically "in progress", but I have faith.
4) Keep Fabian in the team. Check.
5) Get Jakob back.  Working on it.
6) Keep Jensie on in some capacity, even if he stops riding. Working on it.
7) Get rid of the bad-news RadioShambles name. Check.
8) Find new sponsor to ensure stability for a couple of year. Hmm, working on it.

Well, that's not bad, is it?

Roll on 2014, I say, particularly as Le Tour is starting in the UK next year.

Yes, it really is, seems like a very odd thing to do, to drag everyone and everything over here for a low-key start - oh, come on, be honest, cycling is a tiny, tiny, minority sport in the UK - just to have to get everyone and everything back across the channel for the next stage. I mean, what if the tunnel collapses? What if the ferries sink? What if the Cats deflate?

What was that? It's been done before? Well, yes, but really, I can only imagine what the riders are saying.

Rider: "Hey, I hear we're starting le Tour in Britain next year."
Other Rider: "Oh blimey, not again, they refuse to block off the roads, they don't speak a word of French, and only half a dozen of them turn out to see us!"
Rider: "Well, it's only for a day or two."
Other Rider: *grumpily* "Oh, I suppose so." *wanders off, grizzling about it*

I actually made a memo to self, to book a hotel early, on the grounds that they would be booked up a year ahead like they are in the Pyranees.

Then I realised what I was writing, fell about laughing, and stopped worrying about it.

(A small hotel somewhere in Yorkshire)

Manager: "Eh, lass, wi've joost had an right narna on't phooowwn, wantin' to boook a room for September."
Waitress: "Well, Mr Hartingford, tha've booked a bit early, to be sure, but tha's not sooch a bad thing, is it?"
Manager: "Nay lass, you misunderstand - September o'next year! Next year!!"
Waitress: "Eh!" *throws apron up in surprise* "Who wud boook a horrtel that far in advance?"
Manager: "Er did say summat about a cycle race, but Ah think she were a bit bonkers."
Waitress: "That she must be, Mr Hartingford, that she must be."

*they both laugh at the silliness of southerners*