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A Rush of Blood
French Revolutions - cycling the Tour de France: Tim Moore. Yellow Jersey Press
2001. 277 pages paperback, £12.00. ISBN 0-224-06095-3
Tim Moore. Sporting status: not a couch potato. Previous experience of
cycling: some commuting on a Bickerton, a bicycle with 'the handling
characteristics of a human pyramid'; six months on a girly bike bought in a
stolen property auction; a four-day MTB trip across Iceland with his
brother-in-law; ten-year seasonal obsession with the Tour de France. None of
which explains a rush of blood at 36 which results in a ride round (most of)
the route of the 2000 Tour, suffering pain and humiliation, but discovering the
hero inside himself and being very funny on the way.
There's plenty of inventive fun: Captain Scott bewildered by his view of South
Poland; the contrast between looking the part and looking a prat – not just an
anagram; the excitement when the hotel proprietor identifies him as Roger
Moore's son; the 'deeply poxy' French breakfasts; his resort to 'manual
obscenity' when his French isn't up to the verbal kind; 'coq au van' as a name
for a roadkill; and Bernard Hinault's fearsome demeanour suggesting that 'he'd
just been told that some bloke up the road was prancing about in a wedding
dress singing, 'Bernard, Bernard, je m'apelle Bernard.'
In the interests of comedy there's a good deal of literary licence. Charly Gaul
was by no means the first cyclist to pee on the move. Percy Stannard usually
spelled his name with a double L. Merckx's cannibal year was 1969, not 70. René
Vietto did have a little toe removed, but after, not before the 1947 Tour – and
the notion that his disciple Apo Lazaridés copied him even in this is just a
joke.
But it's not all laughs. There are moments of revelation, little epiphanies:
'In conquering the savage beauty around me I have become its creator.' Heroic
legends: Eugéne Christophe, Tom Simpson. Laments: the death of the French small
town as the young flee to the cities. And learning experiences: Moore is amazed
to find that his intestinal agonies are down to not washing his water bottles.
And did you know that 18th May is St Eric's Day? See. You can learn things from
books. What I find remarkable is that, with his limited preparation, Moore does
so well, finally achieving 280 kilometres in a (very long) day. Moore is a
notably better writer than the much more famous Bill Bryson, and his book is
immensely enjoyable. Enjoy.
Ramin Minovi
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