Flers is a typical northern town. The D524 follows the route of the railway from Vire to the centre of Flers. The population is around 14,500 and has been in a steady decline since the mid nineteen-seventies. Not that you would notice this from a stroll through town. On the day of my visit, it was Ascension Thursday, and the town was very quiet as this is one of the few holy days still remaining in the catholic calendar. Most of the little shops were closed – apart from the bakeries, of course! But in and around the church of St-Germain, the streets were lined with empty cars and just as I approached the steps to the main entrance, a sea of people emerged. The quiet was disturbed, and suddenly the town came alive as families and friends began chatting. I decided to leave them all to it. Once a conversation starts in France, who knows how long it will take!
I make my way to the railway station, and I’m very surprised to see the original building still standing. Built and inaugurated in 1866, it is a single-storied symmetrical building very much of its time and fashion. Considering the blanket bombing that took place across this area of France in the nineteen-forties, it is something of a little miracle that this station has survived.
As I meander through town, the destruction caused by the bombing is much more obvious. Modern housing and business premises are interspersed with the oddity of a single building from the twenties or thirties. A park surrounded by individual homes and gardens, mostly modern or recreations of an earlier style, with one sole property that had been there since it was built in the mid-nineteenth century. At one corner of the park, I come across the war memorial, dedicated to those who gave their lives in the 1914-1918 conflict. It, too, has survived the destruction that occurred in the forties, along with the chapel of remembrance, built between 1926 and 1932.
My stroll takes me back to the church. And still some stragglers are standing on the steps continuing their conversation. I nod and walk past and step into the silence of the neo-gothic nave. Built in the early 20th century, it has the height and looks every centimetre of style from that much earlier period, when building an edifice this size would have taken decades rather than a few years. Nevertheless, it is impressive, and the modern take on the art of the ancients who created the stunning stained glass of some of the most revered places in Christendom is a breathtaking meander through modern art. The church interior opens up other windows on history. There’s a small chapel dedicated to those who gave their lives in the Maquis and a second memorial to a man who was persecuted for his religion – Catholicism.
Back outside again, and the weather has taken on a chill, grey clouds are skudding across the sky, the talkers have left, and the last of the returnees are moving along the main street on their way home to lunch.
I have one last place to visit, and it’s just a few steps from St-Germain. The covered market is a magnificent red-brick building that dates from 1883. As it’s Ascension Thursday, the market is well and truly closed, but I can’t help but take as close a look as I can get. I make a note to return on a market day when I’m next in this area. There is also a fortified château here, which has become the town’s museum, and it is also closed. I’ll save that for another visit on another day ...
There will be more from my journey following the Granville-Paris Express next month.
If you enjoyed this post, you can find the previous posts by clicking the links Granville part 1, Granville part 2, Vire, and my review of the book, The Paris Express, is Here
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