Joe Theobald, aka DJ Captain Wormhole, Looks at all things vinyl 

I’VE pretty much had my head out of the game for the last week; I’ve barely picked up a record and I can’t remember the last time I had to blow dust off a stylus. Instead of spinning wax I’ve been spinning my legs, rolling up and down mountains in the French Alps on my bicycle.

Whenever I go abroad, particularly when I’m on the continent I always make an effort to visit at least one record store or do some digging in a local flea market.

Collecting records is a full time hobby and the pleasures of the hunt for rare, weird and cheap vinyl are only enhanced by sunshine, wearing shorts and brief interludes to enjoy 15-Euro three-course plat du jours.

Unfortunately this latest trip across the Channel didn’t bear any flat round black fruit. Not entirely unsurprisingly, the small alpine towns and mountaintop ski resorts that were the mainstay of our cyclo-touristing adventures were not resplendent with record stores and I couldn’t find a flea market for love nor money.

Ah well, it is what it is, and I was there to ride my bike anyways.

So, basically, I haven’t really got anything else to write about. No new finds, no dusty alpine treasure troves and no traditionally grumpy Gallic record dealers smelling of red wine, garlic and disdain.

All that remains is to congratulate Chris Froome and the rest of Team Sky on another Tour de France victory. They made the hardest and most spectacular race on Earth look almost easy and they did it with panache.

Also, props to Cav for hitting 30 and sticking it to the critics, and Steve Cummings for being a bad man.

Next week: Back to business.