However, as I’m responsible for providing once again a large proportion of the food for this evening’s BBQ for the Kivilev’s volunteers, my plans were snuffed out fairly early on. Next year, I keep telling myself, will be different. While I’m not doing anything overly complicated for this evening, it is acting as a dry run for next week. I’ve made the carrot and tabbouleh salads for the 40 attendees this evening which has given me a good idea of the time it’ll take to do the same next week, albeit for 175. I had hoped to do a lot in advance however space is an issue, specifically space in the fridges. So most will have to be done the night before. Last year I recall that I stayed up all night cooking, I’m not expecting this year to be any different.

I’ve made a rich, crumbly almond cake to serve with my vinegar glazed strawberries this evening. Spanish strawberries are cheap at the moment and tasteless. I enrobe them in a balsamic vinegar caramel which really brings out the taste. I’m not proposing to do this next week at La Kivilev, no they’ll be having spiced rice pudding and a piece of my (in)famous pain d’epice for dessert.

In addition to the cooking, I’ve also got to purchase all the food for this evening. We keep the BBQ simple: sausages and chicken. Fortunately, someone else has kindly offered to cook these. My beloved did it last year but he’s still in the UK and therefore unavailable this evening. Obviously having him absent does make my workload easier.

One of my biggest issues is trying to calculate who’ll turn up this evening. We’ve reckoned on 40. However, it’s less of an issue as whatever’s left over can happily be popped into the freezer. Though it’s rare that there’s much more than crumbs after these events. I’m constantly amazed at my clubmates ability to consume what is essentially free food. I’m beginning to suspect that they starve themselves beforehand so as to maximise the benefit. Most of them are only 60kg when wet!

I’m obviously a glutton for punishment as I’ve also offered to cook for the dozen or so volunteers next Friday. In year’s past we’ve ordered salads and pizzas which take an age to arrive and are rarely appetizing. In the interests of economy, I’m going to prepare lunch for a fraction of the cost: tortilla with two different salads  – coleslaw and tomato – followed by dessert. Haven’t yet decided what to do for dessert, probably some cake and cookies to have with coffee.

It might sound as if I’m having a bit of a moan but in truth I like cooking for large numbers. Indeed, I enjoy the logistical challenge and, as ever, it really is all about planning and preparation.

The MotoGP season has restarted and while I’ve managed to watch all of the races not all of them have been live. Thank goodness for Eurosport’s endless repeats of sporting events. The football season is almost at an end with barely a comment from me. All I can say is that it looks as if both my clubs will live to fight another season in their respective top leagues. It’s been a season of struggling to survive with the odd flash, nothing more, of brilliance. Bayern play Chelsea at Bayern in the Champions League final - bet no one saw that one coming – and then it’s all over for a week or so until Euro 2012. It’s going to be a bumper sporting summer, but will I have the necessary stamina to survive?

I’m finding it hard to enthuse about London 2012 which sounds as if it’s going to be a logistical nightmare. Now that they’re going to charge spectators to watch the road races from Boxhill and the time-trial in Hampton Court, I’ve decided that this is one live event I can and will do without. I’ll be watching the Olympics from the comfort of my lounge, including the cycling.

I’ve attended another Triathlon, purely as an exhibitor you understand, just thinking about attempting one is enough to leave me fatigued. I’d be happy to do the cycle but I’d never manage the swim with my floundering doggy paddle. I was helping out my friends on their premium clothing stand (www.g4dimension.com) and it’s always interesting to meet a different sporting crowd. TriStar Cannes featured rather shorter events and therefore attracted a rather different crowd from last year’s Ironman event -  less international and less hardcore. Still plenty of tattoos though. It was nice to see the fruit of some of my recent labours as I’d done all the translation work for their re-launched website and new product catalogue.

I may also be doing a stint as a surrogate parent to two teenage boys. Their parents are looking for some quality time together and I’ve volunteered. It’ll be an enjoyable 10 days or so and anyone who knows me well will know that they’ll be no match for me. That’s right, they’ll be returning to their parents happy, but exhausted, after a few days with Auntie Sheree.

An old friend came for a visit last week and it was good to spend some quality time with her and do some much-neglected sightseeing. Yes, my reintroduction of one day a week visiting different towns and places very quickly went by the wayside. I keep thinking, next year, after I’m no longer slaving for the club. As you might imagine, the list of things I’m going to do “next year” is growing exponentially.

I’m back on my bike and training for this week end’s la Vencoise which goes up and over my favourite hill, the Col de Vence, in both directions. I’ve been adding a few longer rides, plus more climbs, to my weekly rides as we head relentlessly towards summer and the possibility of rides up some of the longer local hills. Would you believe I’ve still to climb the Col du Turini! We’ve got the Kivilev ride for the volunteers this week but I’m going to have to dip out – lack of time.

Of course, May’s main event is the Giro and over at VeloVoices we’re having a swell time in pink. I watched, tweeted and commented on yesterday’s stage – the team time-trial in Verona – all the while thinking I should have been there. Yes, the Giro is yet another one for my “next year” list. Yesterday’s stage was doubly disappointing as it would have given me an opportunity to catch up with friends who live close to Verona, a city I’ve yet to visit. The Giro’s start in Savona next Friday was another on my list but is currently under threat from the advancing work load.

Of course, VeloVoices is one of the reasons why I haven’t written so much on the blog in recent months. I’m pouring my energies into that and frankly while it’s very enjoyable it’s also very time-consuming. How my fellow writers manage to produce so much copy while holding down full-time jobs and families just amazes me until I realise I actually have a full-time job too and one very large baby to look after – my beloved.

I had ridden strongly earlier in the week with my beloved who had even remarked upon it. While my Garmin faithfully records all the details, for me it’s often about how much time and distance my beloved puts into me on our rides. He’ll typically ride off up an incline, turn, ride back down and remount with me. The point at which our paths cross is always telling and it says far more about my form than his. I’d ridden the rest of the week on my own, faithfully following the training program. But it’s been so windy and I find riding into a constant headwind, praying that the wind’ll change direction, to be rather tiring. It’s like wading through treacle.

Saturday, my beloved expressed a desire to ride on without me. He’ll often ride all or part of one of these courses with me. After all it’s not about time as we’re merely collecting points for the club with our participation. Although, on my return, I will compare how I did the previous year. I reminded him about the route (there’s no arrows) and we set off quite late, leaving directly from home as I’d collected our frame numbers the day before. As I headed toward Vence, I was aware that I was about to do my best ever ascent, time-wise. Strange as I wasn’t feeling particularly on-song and I’d stopped twice to blow my nose. The wind had stirred the pollen from the trees and aggravated my allergy.

As I headed toward the base of Col de Vence, I was overtaken by the broom wagon. Never before seen on any of my previous participations in this event. Clearly, I was usually so far behind that no one had noticed that I was behind rather than in front of said wagon. The thought did cross my mind that we might be keeping one another company, again not an uncommon occurrence for me. Even stranger was the thought that I might not actually be last.

Some of my clubmates run a bike shop at the base of the climb, I waived as I sailed past. The first bits steep so I shifted into my lowest gear and churned away. I’m particularly fond of this climb, know it well, ride it frequently and am aiming to peak for a race up it in September. It’s also one of my favourite descents largely because you can see the on-coming traffic and therefore make use of the entire road with a fair amount of impunity.

This was my maiden ascent of the year and I was keen to check out progress on a modern house which had been built on one of its early switchbacks. I was surprised to see that they still hadn’t landscaped the garden.  When you ride at my speed you’ve time to make quite an inventory of the area. The view back down to the coast was unusually spectacular. Later in the season it tends to be obscured by a heat haze.

I was going well. So well that I never even noticed my bete noire, the two kilometre stretch between 6km and 4km to go. I wouldn’t say I was motoring but the splits were looking promising. I’d even overtaken a number of people. I was overtaken by a group from one of the neighbouring clubs who invited me to ride the longer course (150km rather than 100km) with them. They were, of course, joking. I replied that I would if they pushed me. That’ll be a “No” then!

I had my photograph taken as I wound my way up the climb. Another first, he’s normally long gone by the time I reach this point. I said hello again to the boys in the broomwagon who confirmed there were plenty of riders behind me. Must have left it very late to start! I passed the sign telling me it was only two kilometres to the horse-ranch which is 500km from the summit. I was feeling good, I picked up the pace. I was on target to better my best-ever time by over 5 minutes: what an incentive. I got out of the saddle and as I did so I noticed the rider descending and about to cross my path was none other than my beloved. Damm, I was going to have to stop.

It would appear that my beloved wasn’t feeling too well. The combined effects of a late night, a busy week and the side-effects of the medicaments taken to fight off his gout. Now he didn’t necessarily expect me to stop, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was hoping I would. Ah well, my record breaking climb would have to be postponed!

This may surprise you given my obsession with planning and preparation. But years of travelling on business, and with as few changes of clothes as possible, means that even when travelling by car I don’t take the kitchen sink. Admittedly, whatever the weather, there’s two items you’ll always find in my luggage: a superfine black pashmina shawl and a cashmere sweater. But you typically wouldn’t take a down-filled anorak on a summer vacation, when the long-range weather forecast is favourable, would you?

My distressed purchases are few and far between and some, like the anorak, have proved to be valuable buys. For me it’s all about euros/wear. If an item ends up joining my list of “old-faithfulls” it’s more than paid its way.

My beloved, on the other hand, a man who spends his life circumnavigating the globe on a regular basis, pretty much only makes “distressed purchases”. Fairly early on in married life we established my beloved’s inability to acquire items of clothing which fitted or went with anything else in his wardrobe. I’m not sure whether he succumbs too easily to the blandishments of the sales people, is colour-blind or really does think his bum doesn’t look too big in it! Whatever, it’s safe to say, he shouldn’t be let out on his own.

On average, my beloved makes a distressed purchase every other trip. This will be for a variety of reasons. Primarily, because he’s forgotten to take it with him. Yes, despite my efforts to get him to follow a list, he still forgets stuff. We’re talking cuff-links, adaptor plugs, re-chargers those types of things. Equally, these are the types of things he forgets along the way to which I should add ties, toilets bags and his laptop cable and charger. Next up are those occasions when the airline misplaces his luggage on a long-haul trip where he’s changed planes at least once. The airline won’t lose the luggage but generally my beloved and his luggage only connect when he’s due to return home. Of course, the insurance company and airline give you a daily allowance which my husband uses up in a nano-second.

He’s now on unfamiliar territory, and very dangerous ground, as he can’t remember his size or the brands he normally wears. In addition, my husband works on the one per day rule. No matter that you can wash and dry things overnight or even put them in the hotel laundry. His luggage has gone astray, he’s away for seven days therefore he needs seven pairs of socks, underpants, shirts. He will go on a veritable orgy of spending acquiring all manner of vile items which are ill-fitting and ill-suited for the purpose. Often they are never worn again. Sometimes I get lucky and this happens in India where stuff’s cheap, no matter how much he buys.

I recall a trip to Canada where he was due to play a round of golf with a friend. He went out and bought new golf kit, head to toe, for one day’s golf! A man who’s got more golf kit than half the ProTour. Needless to say this was neither covered by insurance nor strictly necessary. Don’t forget this is a man who could open his own sports shop, offering a very wide range of sporting goods and apparrel.

Another of his obsessions, though I confess rather less expensive than some of his other indulgences, are swimming goggles. He’s always buying “the latest and best” and promptly losing them, along with swimming shorts, flip-flops and towels. In truth, my husband is legend when it comes to misplacing things. He always claims that he’s not lost them he just can’t place his hands on said item at this particular moment in time. I’m fond of saying if I had a euro for every item he’s lost I’d be a wealthy woman. Of course, I’d be even better off if I then didn’t have to fork out for the replacement!

I particularly enjoy this ride and we generally choose to ride to and from home to the departure/arrival point adding a further 20km to our route. I’ve only once, disastrously, attempted the 150km route. It’s not that I can’t do 150km, it’s that I can’t do it as fast as the bloke driving the broom wagon would like. Only one of our members has opted for the longer route, the chap who wins all the cups at the club for greatest total distance cycled in a season. He makes a clean sweep every year, a competition no one else really bothers to contest.  He’s won so many cups that he proudly uses to adorn pretty much every surface in his apartment. I haven’t checked, but I’m pretty sure he’s even got them in the smallest room in the house!

It rained for much of yesterday, stopping only briefly at around mid-afternoon. April is generally the wettest month here and, while I would prefer it stayed dry so that I can ride, I do appreciate that our local vintners and vegetable growers, not forgetting the Carros strawberry farms, are probably crying out for water. We set the alarm for an early morning call but, as soon as we woke, could hear that the rain was still falling heavily. It’s forecast for tomorrow too, but then we’re assured of wall-to-wall sunshine.

In anticipation of this calamitous sequence of events, my cycling coach has sent me some exercises to do on the home-trainer, and there’s always the gym. But I’m going to look on this rare Sunday without a ride as a bit of a gift and enjoy the things I don’t normally get to do on a Sunday morning. I’m going to cook my beloved a delicious breakfast, then we’re going out for coffee and the newspapers before settling down to watch Amstel Gold. Did I say settling? What I should have said was that my beloved will be settling while I will be standing, hunched over the ironing board clearing the ironing mountain. I’ve procrastinated long enough.

Meanwhile, my beloved has had a recurrence of his gout. An ailment which tends to invoke mirth rather than sympathy. We’re not exactly sure why it’s chosen to return although it’s struck him in the left and not the usual right foot. I suspect that because it was cold and wet while we were on vacation in the Basque country, my beloved failed to drink enough water. Either that or it was too much excellent Rioja! The downside, at least for me, was that his ailment delayed his departure by a whole 36 hours, and counting. He left early yesterday morning and will be back later this evening. I’ve barely had time to do a few things on my most recent to do list, let alone tackle any backlogs.

Yes, I am referring to the ironing mountain. I can’t wait until the Giro as I have a very dear friend coming to stay with me at the end of the month and so simply must clear the spare bedroom where all the ironing is now piled up on the bed. None of it mine, you understand. Maybe, during Amstel Gold on Sunday afternoon.

On our return from the Basque country I had a rather frustrating day, once again trying to deal with Orange. I should add that I suspect the issues would have taken a similar amount of time had I been dealing with BT or any, indeed, other service provider. The nice man who promised to send me the outstanding invoices simple failed to deliver everything! So, I’ve requested them again. My beloved then started agitating about the HD service which we seem to have lost. I told him I couldn’t face Orange again for a couple of days. But no, he decided he would deal with it. Whenever my beloved, a man with no patience whatsoever, decides to take matters in hand I’m always the one who gets dumped on.

Sure enough after e lengthy wait “on hold”, a couple of buttons and less than 30 seconds, the telephone receiver was abruptly shoved into my hand! To be fair, it’s useful to have two people to go through the various instructions – one to listen and one to push buttons on the remote –  but after a frustrating hour during, which I was unable to watch the Brabantse Pijl cycle race, our helpful technician went off duty without having resolved the problem. He promised a colleague would call back the following day, he hasn’t. I have planned the recall for Monday morning.

I’m now savouring my final hours of freedom and wondering how I might usefully spend them. Sadly, it looks as though my “panacea for all ills” aka a long ride on the bike might be out of the question, on account of the rain. But first, a large cup of coffee and L’Equipe will go some way to restoring my equilibrium.

Sign-on at GP Miguel Indurain

Sadly my plans to ride some of the Tour of the Basque country course have gone awry. We arrived in Estella on Friday evening, dined well and enjoyed a good night’s sleep to awake to yet more glorious sunshine. We decided to ride a couple of the loops of the GP Miguel Indurain, catching the race both en route and as it passed through the town. I also rode up to the summit finish twice, please note the peloton only had to do it once!

Sunday, also dawned fair but soon turned grey and overcast. We were now in the heart of the Basque country, ideally placed to view each of the start and finishes of the six stages in the Tour of the Basque country. Undaunted, we muffled up and rode out, heading due north. I hadn’t been riding for long when my bike went “kerrching”. Never good news. I stopped to discover I had broken a spoke on my rear wheel. Initially, I wasn’t too concerned. Every small town here has a bike shop. Surely, someone would be able to fix it?

A quick search on the internet revealed a large bike shop on the outskirts of Bilbao which we could visit en route to the following day’s stage, finishing and starting in Guenes, 20km south-west of Bilbao. The shop took the wheel and suggested I call back later. My beloved elected to ride some of the day’s course while I spent an enjoyable day bombing around the Basque countryside, in the warm sunshine, in the company of my friends, Dom and Susi,who were taking photos for Cycling News. At the stage’s conclusion, we headed back to the bike shop. They hadn’t

Chris Horner before stage 1 start

managed to find the requisite parts but suggested I leave it in their tender care for another day. I was happy to do so though rather chafing at the bit to get back into the saddle.

I rang the shop the following morning and they confirmed it would be ready for collection that evening after stage two’s conclusion in Vitoria-Gasteiz. This is a place I’d seriously underrated on my last visit there during the Vuelta. The stage had finished on the town’s outskirts, today we saw its delightfully charming old town.  When we returned to the bike shop, it was to bad news. They’d been unable to source replacement spokes for my Campagnolo wheel.

Undeterred, I decided I would have a chat with the men from Mavis the following morning. It just so happened that I’d previously met one of the Mavic guys at Paris-Nice. I turned to him for some words of wisdom before the start of stage three. He basically told me that the wheels were a bugger to fix and he couldn’t help me. I’m assuming that’s a technical term. He advised I carried spares in future – noted.

I then turned to see which of the ProTour teams were sporting similar wheels. A couple of the guys at Movistar had the same model but in view of the fact they were fiddly to fit, and knowing how hard the mechanics have to work, I decided not to ask. Though I did keep looking longingly at anyone who had a bike the same frame size as mine and my beloved had to keep admonishing me to step away.

In any event, it’s rained pretty much solidly for the last four days. So it’s doubtful I would have actually ridden even had I been able to fix the wheel. My beloved has been out most days, only to come back as mud-spattered as a cyclo-cross rider – thank heavens I bought plenty of kit with us. The washing machine will be going into overdrive on our return!

For my previews and reviews of both races head on over to VeloVoices.

As my trip clashed with Easter, it seemed a bit churlish to leave my beloved behind. His wishes have been accommodated, free WiFi at our destination hotel. Apart from that I have our days mapped out. We’ll be riding some of each day’s parcours before and after watching the riders sign on for the stage and then we’ll be catching the day’s finish. The weather looks fine although it won’t be as warm as this week which has been somewhat exceptional. Conscious that I’m heading to a green and pleasant land I’ll also be taking my wet weather gear.

Apart from our cycling gear, we don’t need to take too many other clothes. This makes packing relatively simple. Rather than hiring a car we’re taking Tom III who’ll be literally stuffed to the gunwhales but not too stuffed that we can’t bring back a few goodies. I’m thinking ham, wine, cheese which we can pop into the cool bag. The car is clean, full of petrol, tyres checked and ready to go. All our packing has been done, just need to slip in the electric brushes tomorrow morning. The only thing missing is my beloved. He’ll be winging his way back from London this evening.

He tends to make a speciality of returning just before we go away. This ensures that everything will have been done for him, all he has to do is turn up. I have had a few wobbly moments when he’s done this in the past and either missed his plane – occurrences far too frequent to enumerate - or it’s been delayed. Rather than try and return the same day as we leave, I now insist he returns the night before.  A small but sensible precaution.

However, it soon became very apparent that I’m going to be having a cheap summer. Pastels -  colours more suitable for teething babies – are everywhere. Beige is as close as I get to anything light coloured! Moreover, every pair of trousers I looked at had matchstick legs. Not a word you’d use to describe mine. I can barely get my arms in these, much less my legs. No matter, I frequently wear shorts in the summer. They too are highly fashionable items this summer and they’re all the itsy bitsy variety. All very well for those with slender limbs and ages barely in double-digits. As one of my dear friends says “I’ll be shopping in my closet”.

About this time of year, I usually embark on a bit of a spring clean. Regular readers will be aware that I’ve not tackled any of the usual household chores, let alone started on those that only get done once a year. However, I have guests arriving shortly and will therefore have no excuse but to get stuck in. I’ve compiled a list of what needs doing and then prioritised it. Looking at the available time in the coming couple of months reveals I can realistically only do the urgent and important tasks, the rest will just get swept into the flat’s many nooks, crannies and storage cupboards.  I know the Duchess of Windsor said “you can never be too rich or too thin” but my version is that you can never have too much storage space.

I’ve just taken part in my first sportive of the season. It was the perfect day for a ride along one of my favourite routes and  I rode it with one of my girlfriends. Chatting while you ride helps those kilometres run down much more quickly. The participants set off from Mandelieu at one minute intervals and we were soon being overtaken by those that had started well behind us but were clearly intent on turning it into a real race. We however were enjoying the sunshine, the magnificent views both along the coast and in the L’Esterel hills. In no time at all, we were back were we started.

After some refeshment, it was into Tom III and back home to catch up on an afternoon’s live racing. Three races to watch, thank heavens for multiple screens and streaming possibilities. The next month, leading up the the start of the Giro, is jam-packed with races which we’ll be hard pressed to cover over on VeloVoices. Still, it’ll be fun trying.

You may have noticed that I’ve been very quiet on the football front. There’s very good reasons for this. Namely, my beloved boys in claret and blue are facing more mid-table mediocrity while OGC Nice are dicing with relegation. I think I can be forgiven to giving the topic a wide berth. I am however much looking forward to the start of the MotoGP season on 1000cc bikes. Though, if the racing is anything like the testing, plus ca change.

As first, despite, several down jackets, I was really chilled. So cold in fact that I wrapped myself up in the thermal car blanket. Finally, the sun came out and I began to thaw enough to start serving my cakes to the hungry hordes who fell on them like locusts. The pissaladiere disappeared almost as quickly as it was cut along, with the pain d’epices. The French find it vastly amusing that an English woman can dish up such delicious Nicois Classics. I’d brought along a couple of new recipes along with my tried and tested banana cake, pain d’epices and carrot cake. A new chocolate cake recipe, which was very squishy and moreish, along with a lemon poppy seed cake that was light and crumbly, with just the right amount of tang. Following favourable feedback, these two will be added to the repertoire.

It was pleasing to see many of our past and present riders stepping onto the top step of the podium to collect the prize for their category. For the last two years, the cups have been handed out by Jeannie Longo. But she was a no show this year. I wonder why? I encouraged the chap we’re hoping to persuade to take over the role of M Le President to fulfill the role of Master of Ceremonies – he’s a natural.

Although many participants felt incumbent on trying a slice or two of anything they could lay their hands on, reduced numbers meant that I had a couple of cakes left over to add to the freezer for my forthcoming English classes. In addition, I’ll now start building my stocks for La Kivilev at the end of May. This is where the large chest freezer will be brought into service down at the club so as not to take up all the space in mine. Though I will have to take regular inventories or padlock the chest so as to ensure nothing goes walkabout – yes, really.

First up however will be next week’s birthday celebration for two of my English group. I’ll be away in the Basque country the following week so have promised them a slap up afternoon tea, including their favourite chocolate chip cookies, before I depart. The two of them have worked very hard over the last few months and are regularly scoring top marks in their English tests and homework, so I must be doing something right.

I’m in training for this Sunday’s sportif organised by my cycling coach who’s still taking it easy on account of his busted 3-times but finally healing collarbone. Today I rode with another of his clients who’s training for the Nice Ironman. We had a really good ride although I was feeling a bit fatigued at the end of it. Definitely overdid it on the interval sprints – watch out Cav!

My beloved has arrived safely in Australia after a couple of days in Dubai. I had hoped to tackle some pressing items on the “To Do List” before his return next Monday but our accountant has come up with a million and one questions about the year end accounts. The guy who’s handled everything for the past 5 years’ or so left and his replacement, who strikes me as being very efficient, has gone over everything with a fine tooth comb. I think I’ve managed to come up with an answer for pretty much everything.