France: Albi

Last week we slunk away for a couple of nights before the mayhem of the French school holidays kick off, stopping off en-route to the Gorges du Tarn to visit the city of Albi, a scant two hours away. 

It is probably 35 years since I was last here on a family holiday, and although I've probably seen every single cathedral in south west France on those trips, Albi was one that I always remembered. The Basilique Cathédrale Sainte-Cécile d'Albi is a truly massive building, looming over its neighbours, yet is constructed from the smallest, most delicate red bricks. The painted interior although less unusual, is equally remarkable.

Dominating the side streets above and dwarfing this small courtyard below.

Much of the cathedral is currently under renovation and so is shrouded in plastic sheeting (hence the paucity of photographs!) and inside the noise must have made contemplation a real challenge. But it was still well worth spending time pottering around both inside and out.

What I hadn't remembered about Albi was the patchwork of narrow streets, courtyards and dead-ends immediately around the cathedral and within the cathedral close, now housing the Musée Toulouse-Lautrec.  The latter district has been perhaps over-renovated, seeming perfect in every way.  Like my garden, I can't help thinking you need a touch of imperfection (or maybe a big dollop) to really enjoy the perfect!

Who needs a garden?  Although I suspect back where we used to live in the UK this lot would have been pinched before too long.

Not just red brick, but cobbles too.  We have the cobbles, we have the clay ...

We only had a few hours to spend in the city, but it is close enough for a return trip soon.