Fréjus

Grey skies, mist hiding the mountains, and the steady drip of rain. Must be the weekend... During the week, whilst people were at work, the sun shone, and the leisured few sunned themselves on the beach, already tanning in their bikinis. Today was quite different. So we headed for Fréjus, which for me meant only distant recollections of the dam disaster in the 1950s and a vague impression that Fréjus was a town living off the képi, with barracks etc.

It turns out to be a seaside resort, but with a lovely historic centre, very considerable Roman remains (a theatre, an amphitheatre, an aqueduct, town walls and gate, water-tower and lighthouse). It being wet, we reserved them for another time and headed for the groupe épiscopal, the old cathedral precinct. The decision was a good one, not just because the ticket office was dry and warm, but because here was one of the most interesting complexes of religious buildings we had visited in a long while.

There was a fifth century baptistery, re-using marble and pillars from the Roman city, a romanesque church with proto-gothic second nave, and, best of all, a canonry cloister with original fourteenth century caisson paintings (some 1200 of them) reflecting a mix of ribaldry,
monster fetishism and delight in birds and beasts. The guide who showed us round was one of that new breed of impressive, educated enthusiasts, a far cry from the ex-military, often mentally scarred people who used to be put into those positions in the past. The high point was his explanation of the walnut doors to the church, sculpted in 1530, and bearing some pretty unusual iconographical traits, including an image from the Proto-Gospel of James, showing the wedding of the Virgin, with the unsuccessful suitors breaking their unflowered rods (a pun on virgo, I suppose).