Our intrepid cyclist Chris Hill and his team mates ride triumphantly into Cannes to be greeted by Ken Livingstone
Midnight, Tuesday 14 March
After a fabulous night in the Formule 1 motel near Frejus we set off together in clear sunshine for Cannes.
All day yesterday we were in sight of the snow capped peak of Mont Ventoux, where the British cyclist Tommy Simpson died in 1967. His last words "put me back on my bike" seemed appropriate this morning.
We were all tired and sore in places but feeling fitter and faster than when we started. A couple of climbs were polished off and then we saw the sea. Feeling as though it was all over we were all surprised to find that it was a four-hour cycle to Cannes.
However, with the end in sight we all found new legs. John Rudge hugged fat James Burland's wheel and sat in his ample slip stream all the way along the Corniche (actually James is not really fat anymore).
We rode along the Croisette cheering at the bemused crowds of suits with an hour to spare before receiving our medals outside the Palais.
Those of us with expense account delegate passes then proceeded to the London stand to hand Ken Livingstone the baton. This task fell to Suzie who demurely strapped a union jack to the end of it in an attempt to make it look less like a sex toy. Please don't try that at home.
Unfortunately it all then caught up with me. I went to sleep and missed the celebratory drinks in the Carlton so I will have to report on that second hand.
It was a great experience and I think it might become an annual event except perhaps we might leave from other European cities - next year Rome perhaps - oh and stay in decent hotels.
I think the highlight was the teamwork and to have made some great friends. If it does get done again I will be glad to have been a pioneer.
