And then there were two. La grand-mère et la mère left yesterday in the morning rain, heading for the airport at different times in separate taxis, the former heading home after two weeks of grandchild entertainment, sundry sewing jobs and jam-making, the latter reluctantly flying off for a meeting in the company mother country. She will be home this evening but meanwhile la petite et son père have just each other for company once more. Teething troubles seem to be the main preoccupation at the moment. Nothing a bit of drugging won't solve.
On Monday we had a visitor (NB arrived despite making few plans), and la petite coquinette awoke from early evening sleep in her most beguiling mood to meet our dinner guest with sleepy smiles and coy flirts aplenty. He left with a belly full of moussaka, crumble and Coteaux de Tricastin, and a phone full of blurred photos to show to Dr C. His mission of finding the hotel at the top of the tallest building in Lyon was eventually accomplished.
Rumours of the demise of Contador may well have been premature. Yesterday's stage, previously assumed to be anodyne, saw him attack on the only climb of the day in driving rain and autumnal temperatures, leaving the man who was runner-up last year trailing in his spray. Lots of complaints about the weather in France at the moment, particularly from the holiday industry. Temperatures for the middle week in July are forecast to be about five degrees lower than those we had in the middle of April. The next three Alpine stages in le Tour could be interesting, including two climbs up the col du Galibier, which on Sunday was under several inches of snow, occasioning the rescue of a number of cycling nuts who were attempting to emulate the professionals in shorts and t-shirts.
