Church-going

Western front of Notre Dame La Grande

I’ve been going to church a lot recently. Not through any new-found religious zeal, but in order to take photographs. When I signed up for the photography course I am currently doing, my intention was to concentrate on street life and, in particular, night scenes. Sadly, the start of the course coincided with the reintroduction of the lockdown and the curfew, which means that the streets are unusually empty and I can’t go out to take photos at night.

So for the last week or so I’ve been scampering around looking for things to photograph, and in Poitiers an obvious choice is the three Romanesque churches that are the city’s principal tourist attraction: Notre-Dame-La-Grande, St Hilaire, and St Radegonde. They are all very different, and all provide lots of scope for photos. St Hilaire is a World Heritage Site and a stopping point for pilgrims on the route to Santiago de Compostela. Both it and St Radegonde are beautifully preserved. The intricate carving on the western front of Notre-Dame-La-Grande make it one of the most visited churches in France.

Side chapel in St Hilaire

I’ve visited all three churches on many occasions since we moved here, and one of the most striking things I’ve found is that they are nearly always empty. The same is true of the equally impressive St Peter’s Cathedral. I have got used to more or less having them all to myself, to the extent that I now get mildly irritated when I see a few tourists or a local coming in for a quick pray.

I’m quite puzzled by this. When I came to live here, I soon became aware that France, despite being officially a secular country, still has a strong Catholic tradition, and Poitiers is clearly a Catholic city. Every other street is named after a saint, a bishop, or an order of monks, and there are a number of (private) Catholic schools. The one around the corner from us has a nun at the gate ushering the children in each morning. As I go past, her look always suggests that I am on my way to help the police with their enquiries.

St Radegonde

Our friends sometimes use the phrase “très catho” when referring to an individual or family. I’ve come to realise that this is generally shorthand for “middle-to-upper class and conservative.” When we first moved in, our neighbour Colette used it to describe the family opposite her, whom we hadn’t yet met. Sure enough, the following Sunday morning we saw maman and papa in matching Barbour gilets, trooping off to Mass with their six young children in tow. They moved out shortly after we arrived; I don’t think the two events were connected.

Anyway, for the moment, in the unlikely event that I should bump into a Catholic clergyman, I can truthfully say that I seem to visit their churches far more often than most of their flock.

***

From the sacred to the profane. This, from the Times diary on Friday, made me laugh:

In a new book by Robert Sellers on the history of Radio 1, David Hamilton recalls the first day of the Jeremy Thorpe trial in 1979, when the Liberal politician was accused of conspiracy to murder his gay lover. James Alexander Gordon read the news headlines and told listeners that when Thorpe and Norman Scott met in court “it was the first time they had come face to face for four years.” As the studio staff fell about, Hamilton asked JAG if he realised what he had said. “I don’t think about the news, I just read it,” he said. Then he looked more closely. “Oh my God!” It was amended for the next bulletin.

***

The swifts are back in Poitiers! Always a sign that summer is on its way. They are amazing creatures. They eat, drink, and mate while flying, and only stop to raise their young. It’s estimated they fly more than 500 miles each day. As soon as they arrive, they visit the nest they built the previous year. Often these are in small cavities they find under roof gables in some of the older houses around here. If you are lucky, you can sometimes see them darting in.

We had a shock on Wednesday. We found one lying on the path in our garden. There is a large French window there, and birds occasionally fly into it. For a swift at speed, this could be fatal. I was about to grab a dustpan and brush to perform the last rites when Madame said excitedly, “It’s still breathing.” She hurried off to the RSPB website, which advised her to put the creature in a cloth-lined box and let it rest there. We did this and laid it on the garden table. To our delight and amazement, we discovered shortly afterwards that it had recovered and flown off.

The only slight drawback is the effect this has had on Madame, who has developed what I can only describe as an Assisi complex. There are now several bird-feeders and drinking bowls dotted around the garden, and she is talking of building a hedgehog sanctuary. She stops to pat and exchange a few words with every dog we pass in the street (Christ knows what they make of her French), and I now discover that on 19th May, the day the lockdown ends, instead of a glorious bar crawl around the city centre, we are off to visit La Vallée des Singes, a monkey colony fifteen miles away.

The next time I see a concussed swift, it’ll be worm food before you can say “David Attenborough.”

***

Things I’ve learnt this week:

The man who wrote “I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside” killed himself after being booed off stage in Glasgow.

Whoopi Goldberg got her nickname from her childhood flatulence.

Buckingham Palace is built on the site of a brothel.

***

Not that anyone cares, but this blog will not be appearing next week. I need to finish my course work. Normal service will be resumed the following week.

In the meantime, here is some music.

A route map

The choice I’ve been struggling with all my life.

***

On Friday, President Macron announced the government ‘route map’ to the end of the current confinement. This will be a four-stage process. The main points are these:

From tomorrow, 3rd May: Travel restrictions will be lifted. We will no longer need an attestation document if travelling more than 10 km. Secondary schools will reopen. All other rules, including the 7pm curfew, remain in place.

On 19th May: Cafés, bars, and restaurants will be able to reopen their outdoor terrace spaces only, with a maximum of six people per table. ‘Non-essential’ shops can reopen. Cinemas, theatres, and museums can reopen with restricted numbers, as can open-air sports facilities. The curfew will be pushed back from 7pm to 9pm.

On 9th June: Cafés, bars, and restaurants will be allowed to reopen indoor spaces, with a maximum of six people per table. A pass sanitaire will be implemented – a ‘health passport’ showing either a vaccine certificate or a recent negative Covid test, which will be compulsory to access certain areas or events. Public events, including concerts and sports matches, with a maximum of 5,000 people, may be possible – but those attending will need a pass sanitaire. The border will be open to non-EU tourists and visitors, but they too will need a pass sanitaire. The curfew will be pushed back to 11pm.

On 30th June: The curfew will end. Events of more than 1,000 people, indoors or outdoors, may be permitted, but those attending will need a valid pass sanitaire.

Full details of exactly how the ‘health passports’ will work have not yet been revealed, but a prototype that is currently being tested would allow individuals to upload either a vaccine certificate or a recent negative Covid test onto their mobile phone or tablet.

This plan has been announced against a background of encouraging statistics in terms of both case rates and vaccinations (all the figures quoted here are from John Lichfield’s excellent weekly updates).

In terms of cases, all the statistics in the last week moved in the right direction, the first time this has happened for two months. The daily average number of cases was 27,857 – a fall of 16.6%. The number of deaths was down, as were the numbers for acute cases and hospital bed occupancy.

With regard to vaccinations, in the last week France delivered an average of 410,120 jabs a day, including 254,167 first jabs. Both are records (for France). By comparison, the UK, with almost exactly the same population, is delivering 533,807 jabs a day, including 118,207 first jabs. Overall, the UK is still way ahead, but France is now delivering twice as many first jabs. The target of 20 million first jabs by 15th May might not be met, but the result will not be far off.

President Macron’s reopening strategy is undoubtedly a gamble, The South African variant is still causing problems in some areas, and the identification of the first cases of the Indian variant (five so far) is a worry. The hope is that the vaccination strategy will win out. Quite what happens if it doesn’t is not clear.

Come what may, Madame and I have ring-fenced 19th May in our diaries. ‘We are just going outside and may be some time.’

***

Things that remind you that you are no longer living in the UK. A couple of months ago, in nearby Charroux, residents were alarmed to be woken one morning by gunshots. It turned out that the mayor had arranged for a group of local hunters to go shooting pigeons in the street (there’s a video clip of one of them in action here). The local paper, La Nouvelle République, regularly has articles about wolves being spotted in Vienne, and last week there was a warning that 1st May sees the start of Tiger Mosquito Alert, which runs till the end of October. This mosquito first appeared in France in 2019, and Vienne is one of the departments on red alert for the insect, which is a transmitter of the very nasty dengue virus.

As if that weren’t enough to worry about, this week La Nouvelle République reported that a wild boar had been seen on Île de La Glacière, a tiny island in the river Clain, about half a mile from our house. The local Lieutenant de louveterie, a sort of state-sponsored gamekeeper, deemed it accidentogène (hazardous) and said that attempts to capture it alive would be too dangerous.

A team of hunters was sent to ‘despatch’ it. The report doesn’t say if these were the same ones as the pigeon-shooting gang from Charroux, but whether they were or not, they were unsuccessful this time.

One of the Poitiers boar-hunters.

Apparently, the boar somehow got off the island and is now roaming through the undergrowth on the city’s outskirts. Who knows where or when it will reappear?

To cap it all, this week, both Madame and I have separately seen a mouse scurrying across the path in our garden. There is only so much of this one man can take.

***

Spotted just by Parc Blossac, this must be the longest street name in Poitiers, perhaps the longest in France. Imagine the poor bugger who lives at no. 99 …

Poor bugger: ‘Hello. I’d like to order a pizza.’

Pizza parlour person: ‘Certainly, sir. Can I take the address?’

Poor bugger (with a heavy sigh): ‘Quatre-vingt-dix-neuf, rue de cent vingt-cinquième régiment d’infanterie.’

A pause …

Pizza parlour person (with a barely suppressed snigger): ‘Would you mind spelling that for me, sir?’

Poor bugger: ‘Q … U … sod it, I’ll open a tin of baked beans.’

***

Things I’ve learnt this week:

When George W. Bush, 43rd president of the USA, arrived in the White House, he found the Clinton administration had removed the ‘W’ keys from all the computers.

Rhinotillexomania is the scientific term for being unable to stop picking your nose.

The 1978 chess final at HM Prison Wormwood Scrubs was between ‘Moors Murderer’ Ian Brady and disgraced MP John Stonehouse.