Oh no! Not the Blogosphere!

The journey from Calais was a long one. The French railway system is not nearly so complete as our own and this obliged me to abandon the relative comfort of the train while still wanting thirty miles to my destination. To cover this final distance, I rode in an ancient barouche, with my portmanteau as companion, over roads which I suspect Caesar would recognise even as he deplored the condition into which they had lapsed. The coachman performed his duty briskly enough but conversation was minimal: a product perhaps of English reserve and French reticence.

I arrived in Saint Pélice early in the afternoon, so having presented myself at the rustic, yet comfortable little auberge in which I am staying, I decided to use my free time to explore before introducing myself at the abbey. Saint Pélice itself is pretty enough, though sleepy and dull. The river winds wonderfully around the abbey which dominates the entire scene with its soaring arches and knife-edge buttresses, reminding one of Chartres only on a much smaller scale.

My explorations concluded, I entered the abbey and inquired after the librarian, M. Joseph Lacroix, who appeared promptly and bid me warm welcome. He confessed to being somewhat flattered that a 'well educated Englishman' should take the trouble to travel so far, at which point I bowed politely and assured him that he was overestimating my abilities. He then explained that he is eager to practice and improve his English and seemed most gratified when I responded that although he should feel free in the former regard, I saw no clear way to achieve the latter. He remained adamant however that I should correct what mistakes he should commit, promising to undertake the same duty for myself. I accepted his commission but I fear that Joseph, as he insists I call him, will be a much busier man in that regard than I. M. Lacroix is a most affable young man and I consider myself fortunate to have made his acquaintance.

Our introductions concluded, Joseph conducted me on a tour of the abbey which was most informative and entertaining. The similarity between the church and the great cathedral in Chartres is maintained on the interior sufficiently well to render an independent description here unnecessary. Having covered the church, cloister and chapterhouse however, we arrived at a particularly fine and heavy oak double door. As he reached it he turned to me with a mischievous smile upon his face.

‘And now,’ he announced, with a hint of excitement, ‘the best, which I have saved until last.’