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F
olklore tells of a grand race which cut across impassable snow-capped peaks, and treacherous wind-swept shores. Over one hundred editions of the ‘Grand Boucle’ have rolled this giant loop, each writing the triumphs and tragedies of legendary adversaries.
And so it was, Renert found himself on a soft-sunny morning, sitting upright outside the Café au Réveil-Matin, in Montgeron - a small town on the southern edge of Paris. Shortly, a small man sporting an over-sized newsboy cap parked a bicycle nearby, sat down on the grass, and took a long draw on a dusty bottle of red wine. “Will that effect your ability to cycle?” enquired Renert. The small man fixed his gaze on the fox. “I hope so,” came the response. Renert came to understand the man had once been a chimney sweep, and although born in far off Italy, was trying to embrace the cultures of his new homeland, hence entering a new bicycle race, with high honours at stake. Happily, the chimney sweep would win.
All artwork, text and images © James Straffon 2025.
