It's amazing how much trouble reading can get you into. The other day, I was leafing through France-Soir at the gym. (They give it away free there, which is a good excuse not to work out.) The newspaper was running a series of articles devoted to Mysterious France and one about Bourges caught my imagination. I learned that it was once famous for its alchemists, who worked their magic in the shadows of its Gothic cathedral; and that it featured some exceptional medieval architecture.
I forgot about this until Madame Tungate left to cover the fashion shows in London and I had a spare weekend. I looked up Bourges on the web and booked a TGV ticket. And so on Saturday I found myself at the Hôtel de Bourbon – a splendid former abbey – preparing to explore the spooky streets of Bourges.
Well, they aren't all spooky. Some of them are quite dull. But there are some atmospheric cobbled lanes, a few narrow half-timbered houses and a couple of hôtels particuliers that definitely look like the lairs of alchemists. There's even a street called rue de l'Alchimie. All of this led me to reflect on how wonderful newspapers are. An article read purely by chance at the gym led to an impulsive journey and a marvellous day of dreaming. It may be an example of effective PR by the Bourges tourist office. But it's also a kind of alchemy.
