I returned to the cathedral to compare it with Rouen: it is much my favourite. Perhaps something about its coherence: constructed in a comparatively short space of time and (unfair on Rouen, this) emerging fairly unscathed from 20th-century bombardment. The rose windows facing each other in the north and south transepts are wonderful.

As I left the cathedral I noticed that the petit train touristique was about to depart – so I caught it. I now have several wonky photos of lampposts obscuring some sight or other, but I did find myself adding to my store of useless information. The town of Amiens was heavily bombed in WWII, and we went along boulevard Faidherbe with its postwar ISAI estate – Immeubles Sans Affectation Immédiate – which still looks good. The cutting that yesterday’s Rouen train went through was once part of the ramparts. The different shades of old and new bricks marking the postwar reconstruction of a church. A long avenue of bourgeois houses that reacted to a window tax by blocking up windows. The unusual decoration on the top of Jules Verne’s house. The Hôtel Bouctot-Vagniez – spot the difference between images from Google Earth and the petit train. A tour of Saint Leu (which I visited on foot in the afternoon) and the edge of the Hortillonages – little market garden islands surrounded by channels of the River Somme.

I was glad I’d caught the petit train. Grands trains tomorrow for the return journey.

I have a hopelessly outdated vision of France. Romantic, elegant and classy with earthier undertones from Zola and Maigret. Quite ridiculous of course. I put it down to French textbook propaganda, watching/reading too many thrillers set on the Côte d’Azur at an impressionable age, artists and Chanel. I know this is 2026 and that the knots of national differences have been planed away over the years . . . but it took ages today before my journey shook off the global Subway/Starbucks/Deliveroo vibe and turned into something that seemed more “French”. (And I realise that part of the shift was moving into a more middle-class world.) London to Lille and then to Amiens. The latter train was delayed by an hour and was no more exotic than Northern Rail – but without the scenery. Such big fields of just mud! And then I remembered the battles of the Somme and was glad that this had returned to farmland.

Anyway, at some point – possibly when I dredged up some French (and my accent sounds oddly atrocious even to my ears) – I finally felt that I had entered a different world. Part of the difference is not being able to have what I am used to: a washed-out café crème rather than an americano , or uncertainty over finding a non-meat food option. I do not ask for sympathy: I pimped my café crème by asking for the “café gourmand” option: a macaron, macaroon, chocolate and a view of the cathedral.

Ah, the cathedral. My reason for coming. Most of it was built in the 13th century in the Rayonnant style (looks like somebody’s been let loose with a Spirograph set). It’s the largest Gothic cathedral in the world thanks to its breathtaking height. It brought tears to my eyes as I first took in its size and light – and I felt quite sad when I completed my tour and realised that my initial sense of awe had dwindled into ordinary appreciation. It is truly magnificent and I am lucky enough to have a view of it from my hotel window.