Apart from the constant diary references to some weight loss and more weight gain, I feel a little like Bridget Jones, in that Guillaume and I have just been away on our first French “mini-break.” I feel a bit silly even admitting this, but it was a good excuse to get out of Paris for the weekend for a spot chosen randomly on the SNCF train website.

Le Havre it was. The largest commune in Normandy, UNESCO world heritage site, and France’s biggest ocean port… why not? Apparently, back in the sixteenth century, it was known as Le Havre-de-Grâce (”The Harbour of Grace”), but unfortunately 85% of that former grace was bombed to smithereens in September, 1944. Trusting the reconstruction to architect Auguste Perret (who goes down in the English-translation of Le Havre history as “the father of the reinforced concrete”) was an interesting decision to say the least. Maybe his voice was just one in a post-war protest of everything represented by old-world Europe, but the city embraces, for better or worse, a new world order. It’s uncertain what this vision of the future entailed – perhaps colossal concrete Soviet structures, or wide American-style boulevards, but Le Havre has both thrown in for good measure. Everything has a dull echo of “modern”, but in a user-unfriendly shade of grey.

When we first arrived in town, we thought we had arrived in Gotham City. The bell tower of the Church of St. Joseph dominates the skyline from the coast, overshadowing even the clock tower of the town hall. On entering the church however, it was revealed to be as far from our bat cave expectations as possible. The entire church, including the hollow spire, was resplendent in stained-glass mosaics, creating a magnificent play of light. This was where all Le Havre’s colours were stored! We found it at last! Craning our necks and straining our eyes to get a better look, we even noticed a spiral staircase somewhat incongruously tacked on to the immense tower. A stairway to Heaven! No wonder Le Havre has world heritage status!