¡Siete de julio, San Fermín!

Today the madness that is the Fiesta de San Fermín begins in Pamplona. Bulls will run through the centre of the city and lots of fools will run along decked out in white t-shirts and red neckerchiefs in front of these large, rather fierce animals. 

However, I am taking little interest in that today. We have the Tour de France here in the UK to take our attention. 

Yesterday, to celebrate my son's birthday, we set off to find his allotted parking spot in a field near Holmfirth so that we could watch the cyclists go through on day two of Le Tour. We had been advised to set off at seven in the morning to avoid traffic jams. However, we had a small child in tow and did not fancy sitting around all day with one who would need regular feeds and nappy changes. Instead, we got on the road at about 10.30, prepared to turn back if we got stuck in a queue of cars. But despite the signs telling us to expect delays, we had no problems at all. 

By 11.30 or so, we had arrived at our parking place. Yorkshire farmers had seized a moneymaking opportunity and charged £10 a day for people to park not too far from the site of the action. 

Our son had found his spot on the internet and booked it a while ago, on the basis that if it should turn out to be a day of torrential rain we would just stay at home and watch it on television. But parking was still available on the day for those who turned up on spec. 

And all along the road to the foot of Holme Moss there were enterprising folk selling wine, beer, ice creams, hot dogs and all varieties of food and drink, not to mention the vans that stopped from time to time to encourage us to buy a "fan pack": an expensive collection of t-shirt, cuddly toy and a range of bright yellow tat. 

We saw some fine field art, 

some festival organisation 

and a fair number of cyclists, including some with children. 

There was also encouragement en route for UK cyclists who were not taking part in the end. There was one for Bradley Wiggins who wasn't selected for the Sky Team. 

And one for Mark Cavendish who was injured in a fall on day one. But we've still got Froome. So we will wait and see. 

Our little group of spectators followed the masses who were settling onto the hillside at the foot of Holme Moss and finally selected a spot where we could watch the publicity caravan entertaining us all. Quite what Miffi was doing there, I'm not at all sure, but there she was. 

Eventually, after we had eaten our picnic, waved to the cameras going past on the road and in the air, we saw the yellow motorbike, forerunner of the leading riders. 

Then the first rider showed up ....

... and the second ... 

 ... and then the peleton. 

And then it was over and the crowd started to make its way back towards their parked vehicles. Except that it wasn't quite over; an official car pipped its way through and made a space for the last couple of riders making their way up the hill! 

And so we set off for home, getting thoroughly soaked in a rainstorm on our way to the car park. But at least it hadn't rained on Le Tour and we had had a good day. 

Of course, we still had no idea who had won the stage. To find that out we had to watch the highlights of the day later in the evening. 

Right now, I'm watching stage 3 make its way into London in the rain. The race goes on!