In Search of Le Tour

A beautiful day, albeit one in which the sun took some time to burn off the mist and fog, and we set off to Yorkshire to recce the route for the Tour de France.
My cycling companion, once again, is Arthur. I contend that I introduced him to cycling, but he denies it. If I said something was black, he would say it was blue. He has the build of a climber, but luckily for me his lungs show the effect of being brought up in a large family of smokers in inner Liverpool. He's pre-booked the campsite, which on inspection turns out to be a front for a kennels and a cattery, and is 4.5 miles from the nearest pub.
But still, the countryside is superb and we have a lovely ride.