Cambridge is ready for the Tour de France. We are amply festooned with multi-coloured tricot bunting - much of it hand-knitted - as well as a number of yarn-bombed bike wheels suspended from lamp-posts.
While waiting for car to have its MOT (luckily the interior being invisible beneath industrial quantities of dog hair, straw and sawdust is not a reason to fail!), I braved the crowds of tourists and graduating students plus proud parent to scout out all the bike shops trying to find the perfect bike for my birthday present . . . obviously I won't have broken it in in time for the Tour de France, so won't be entering this year!
