Sunday 29 September 2024
I am on the 09:30 from Exeter to Paddington en route to Caen. It is my first trip abroad since 2019 and my first away from Exeter without Jill since early 2022.
I am starting this account in a travel notebook Jill started to use for her medical notes exactly three years ago but gave up only one month later. It is also my first trip on Eurostar, although we had used the Shuttle in pre-Modestine days. It will be good to see Geneviève and the Caen library friends after five years.
I left the house tidy in case Kate's friends wanted to use it while I am away and set off through the deserted streets of Exeter on a Sunday morning with my rucksack, benefiting from the lack of traffic to walk straight through the city center - fortunately it was not raining. The train was on time. I was in coach A, at the rear end of the train and at some stations it was warned that the train was too long to fit on the platform. There were some signs of floods but generally the weather was good and the fields a brilliant green.
At Paddington I decided to take the underground to St Pancras, rather than walk, and launched into a complex maze of subterranean passages. Two underground trains were due within a minute of each other on different platforms and of course I caught the wrong one and realized I had to change at the next station before arriving at St Pancras in time for the 13:30 - I was booked on the 15:30. I asked whether it was possible to change the train and was told that the 14:30 was full and there would be a charge to change for the 13:30.
So I decided to visit the British Library just next door where I found a cafe and a space where I could surreptitiously eat the sandwiches that I had prepared. There was ample time to look around the exhibitions. There was an interesting display on an international British Library project to safeguard and digitise archives at risk around the world, including some in Europe. Of course the treasures were on display, including the first four folios of Shakespeare, it being the 400th anniversary of the publication of the First Folio. Some of the labels had not been updated, for example the Codex Sinaiticus and Codex Alexandrinus were not open at the pages indicated. The Gutenberg Bible was on display and a work by William Caxton and Albrecht Dürer's drawings and woodcuts of human proportions. There was a display on conflicts in Tudor times which included a letter from Henry VII to Edward Courtenay Earl of Devon dated from Woodstock 16th September 1497 about the Perkin Warbeck rebellion and the siege of Exeter.
I left to return to St Pancras and found myself in a huge waiting room packed with a queue waiting to scan the tickets, followed quickly by passport control, including a photograph being taken to open the final gate, just in case I had changed my identity in the few paces following the examination of the passport. Luggage was then scanned, including my waist pouch, belt and jacket. There was more waiting in another huge waiting room, where all seats were taken, although it did empty a little when the 15:03 Eurostar to Brussels left. The people sitting next to me were, with great ado, phoning restaurants in Paris to book tables for the evening meal after their arrival.
I felt very provincial. It had been several years since I had visited London and I felt that I had come from the microcosm of Exeter to the macrocosm of London; the huge arches of the stations, the vast entrance of the British Library, crowds everywhere, only one mask to be seen amidst the mass of bustling people.
I eventually got on to the 15:30 Eurostar. The seat next to mine was double-booked but mine was okay and there was an uneventful journey through the Channel Tunnel to Paris, the train sometimes reaching 200 mph. I had to cross Paris from the Gare du Nord to the Gare St Lazare, again through a maze of tunnels, escalators and steps, but well signposted following the Paris Olympics and Paralympics; in fact the whole place looked very smartened up. I managed to make the transfer in time for the previous train to Caen but could not change the ticket as I had a seat reserved. I had used the Navigo card lent by David, a friend at the Coaver Club, which magically opened the barriers, avoiding the need for queuing and finding out how an earth to get travel tickets for the metro in a world that had gone digital since our last visit. The complicated subterranean labyrinths were at either end of what was essentially a one-station trip. Announcements in French, English and German warned me that my luggage must be labeled, something I had overlooked.
In Caen I was the first out of the station to meet Geneviève and remembered that I should not speak to her while she was driving because she always used her hands while speaking, including when they should have been on the steering wheel. I was door to door in little more than 12 hours but quite weary. Little had changed in the house except that she had a new carpet. All the books, pictures and ornaments were in the same familiar places and it was if I had returned after only a few months.
Monday 30 September 2024
After breakfast I left for the Cimetière St-Gabriel to scatter a few of Jill's ashes at Alain's tomb. I had to be surreptitious as this was not strictly allowed and there were several gardeners about, but it was something I wanted to do in memory of Jill and Alain who we had known from 1977 until his death in 1996 at the age of 50.
At 12:00 Jean-Dominique and his wife Sylvie arrived. Jean-Dominique is responsible for retrospective cataloguing at the Bibliothèque nationale de France and we had first met at a conference where we were both speaking on the occasion of the restoration of the cathedral library in Bayeux in 2013. Since then he had been very helpful in correcting my work to complete Alain's listing of 18th century book trade members in Lower Normandy. He had done much work on the many hawkers of books who fell outside the strict control of the French authorities and I had been able to supplement this.
Jean-Dominique said he had similar problems with declining professionalism in France and had had to intercede to preserve the manuscript stock records in Rouen, as much information had not been digitized or indeed properly catalogued, particularly anonymous materials, which included official publications. He also was in discussions on cyber security with the British Library and other major European libraries and praised the work of the USTC (Universal Short Title Catalogue) in Aberdeen. Like me he had realized that there were problems in such union catalogues with duplicate entries and also conflated editions. There was much reminiscing on his links with Alain and their studies with such notable book historians as Henri-Jean Martin.
We had a long and delicious lunch, lively with talk on families and books. Geneviève gave Jean-Dominique a copy of Alain's magnificent L'Histoire de France racontée par le Jeu de l'Oie, and we looked at some early books in his library. Jean-Dominique was able to give some good advice on what she should do with them. They included a list of all the people who had been guillotined during the French Revolution, which was quite a rare item, and several of the chapbooks that the hawkers we had listed in our book would have carried in their packs. I gave him another, more modern, chapbook in a marbled paper cover that I had prepared, giving an account in French of Jill's long love-affair with France. I had printed copies for all our French friends.
After Jean-Dominique and Sylvie had left to return to Paris, as it was still a fine day, we went for a walk to the beautiful botanical gardens and then in the evening talked about Jill's last months and also caught up on the lives of French and English friends. I also discovered an email from the president of the Vampire Studies Association who wanted a copy of my catalogue of Sabine Baring-Gould's Library at Lew Trenchard. SBG had written on both vampires and werewolves, and I was reminded that I had attended many years ago a conference on werewolves held in the forbidding dungeons of the castle at Creully, not far from Caen.
And so to bed, with some disquieting thoughts on the undead.
Tuesday 1 October 2024
Geneviève had to stay at home because she was expecting a visit and phone call about problems with her central heating that had just arisen.
In the morning I set off for the Archives départementales armed with the copy of the Prosopographie des gens du livre, a USB stick with copies of the documents used, and a plan of Caen. I started off along the busy Boulevard Richemond leading to the périphérique (ring road) by the Cimetière St-Gabriel. I was soon able to leave this busy highway to go through the Vallée des jardins, a very pleasant parkland with cycle ways and footpaths filled with groups of noisy schoolchildren. Once on the other side, I soon got lost, with tramways cutting through the streets which were not marked on the map. I discovered that it dated from 2001 and resolved to buy Geneviève an up-to-date plan that afternoon.
There was much work going on in the town; new cabling was being put in, parking spaces were being replaced with green areas, the old municipal library building had been occupied by a cultural center named Bibi, but that too had closed and was moving elsewhere. I later heard that one of the plans for the building was for the registrar's office to be relocated there. I returned past Saint Nicolas with its overgrown disused churchyard which I explored and, nearby, massive blocks of housing named "New Hastings" under construction.
Geneviève had not received the hoped-for call during the afternoon. She read my account of Jill's long love affair with France, which moved her to tears and she gave me a generous donation to be given in Jill's memory when I returned home. In the evening we went into town for a pizza and wine in restaurants near the place Saint Sauveur whose grand terraces of 18th-century houses were beautifully lit up. There were many folk in the bars and restaurants and it was a mild night to walk back after our meal.
Wednesday 2 October 2024.
Today is exactly three months since Jill died. In the morning Geneviève was preparing for the visit of our four library friends and I was sent off to look out for a supply of baguettes de tradition and to have another coffee at Leclerc.
Bénédicte, Odile, Marie-Françoise and Gaston arrived at 12:00 and I gave everyone a copy of the account of Jill's love affair with France, with strict instructions for it to be read later, in tranquility. I didn't want everybody to be collapsing in tears; it would have put rather a damper on the proceedings.
There was another delicious meal prepared by Geneviève with lively conversation. With an apéritif, entrée, plat, cheese course, dessert and coffee, it was gone 16:00 before the last of the visitors left. We talked about many things, memories of past visits, how we were each getting on, the decline of the city centre, the havoc being wrought by new lines of tramways involving the demolition of rows of houses, the horrors of social media, fake news, artificial intelligence, tattoos, obesity - the sort of thing that any group of old codgers would moan about both here and back in England.
In the evening we went to what we thought would be the inauguration of an exhibition on the reconstruction of the Saint Paul's District which was supposed to be in the local branch library at 18:00. The library was closed but there there was a notice that the newly elected mayor was speaking nearby. He had gathered quite an audience but it wasn't any connection with the exhibition and we learnt there that in fact the exhibition had been inaugurated the evening before, so we returned home, determined to see it next day.
Thursday 3 October 2024.
Geneviève was still waiting for information about the heating, and I had my own emergency: a critical zip failure on my trousers which had to be rectified before our dinner appointment that evening. So I went round to the trusty Leclerc to get at least some idea of prices. They ranged from as little as 10 euros to about 40, but there was nothing really suitable. So I went off into town, my first port of call being the Maison du Pantalon where I was warmly welcomed by the proprietor, only to find that the prices there were mostly well in excess of 100 euros, not the sort of price I wanted to pay for an emergency replacement, so I went to Monoprix, roughly the equivalent of late lamented Woolworths, and there I had a success. I managed to get something for 39,99€ and when I went to the till I discovered there was 30% reduction so in fact I paid 27,99€ enough small change to allow me to have a coffee in Paul, an old haunt, on my way back.
At 14:00 we made for the library and community centre, putting the old trousers in the clothes bank on the way, and found a general display of local illustrations there, but nothing on the post-war redevelopments. St Paul's is a suburban area, rather like St Leonard's in Exeter with quiet streets and large houses with luxuriant gardens but although St Leonard's suffered some damage in 1942, it paled into insignificance compared to what was inflicted on St Paul's during the liberation in 1944. St Paul's received considerable help in reconstruction from America, Sweden and Finland whose houses each had distinctive features so, armed with our map on my i-phone we set out to explore.
Friday 4 October 2024.
The alarm was set for 07:00 we had left the house by 08:00 and, despite the tailbacks which are similar to those that time of day in Exeter, managed to arrive at the station by 08:30 in good time for me to catch the train at 09:06. I was able to linger in the arrival hall of the station listening to a piano being played, something I also noticed in Paris stations.
Queuing for the Eurostar at the Gare du Nord, Paris
The return journey was without incident although the Eurostar was 20 minutes late and, unusually, stopped at Lille for passengers to be picked up. There was a local bus waiting for me at Saint David station, I picked up some food at the local shops and was even able to drop off the Paris Navigo card to David at the Coaver Club. I did not stop for a drink and was home by 19:15 so less than 12 hours door to door.
I survived the rigours of the journey better than expected and am already wondering what my next trip into the Great Wide World will be. Thank you, chers amis, for making this first venture so successful and enjoyable. À la prochaine (oder vielleicht die Nächste?).
