A look back to a cycling holiday enjoyed by Dudley Moore and the late Brian Skidmore.
Dudley's poem – written in his inimitable style – is reproduced from the pages of the Woldsman.
Our coffee stop in Bedouin, then all we had to do,
Was 22 kilometres to the top of Mont Ventoux.
Ventoux is clearly visible, as it is very high,
Nearly two thousand metres, a white peak in the sky.
We thought, maybe it would take two hours to reach the top,
If only we were fit enough to ride without a stop.
Alas we had to stop, to rest our weary thighs
And wipe away the sweat that ran into our eyes.
We continued climbing but then came the crunch.
Was it an illusion? – A restaurant serving lunch.
We could not resist it so we sat there in the sun,
Trying to convince ourselves, our job was almost done.
Eventually, we set off again but had to stop once more
To remember Tommy Simpson in whom we set great store.
His monument, quite near the top, where he was laid to rest
Has messages from cyclists who think he was the best.
The summit came with a final push and gave us superb views
It was a serious challenge, one we could not refuse.
Our descent was exciting. We reached quite high speeds.
At the end came ice cold beers, attending to our needs.