Mont-Saint-Michel

All the bread and cheese we've been eating became too much for Susan, so it was me and the 3 musketeers who struck out for Mont-St-Michel the other day. As we walked the causeway toward this world heritage site, I asked the boys what the tiny golden winged figure atop the spire might be. An eagle? Think church. A dove? Maybe: what hovers over a Christian community? An angel! Yes, and not just any angel. This one is fully armed, a sword held high to strike down heretics and the impious, British Protestants being foremost among them. "Be afraid!" is not a phrase I've ususally associated with angels, but this is the archangel Michael, conscripted by the powers that be (ie. the king, the bishop and the abbot) to sanctify French resistance to ... well... people like me and the boys. Thank God we were able to infiltrate the place unnoticed, pilgrims disguised as tourists, blending in with the thousands who daily turn the Mont into a human anthill. Were we the only ones who paused for prayer in the sanctuary? It seemed so; the cannon on the plateau below offered far better photo opps than the blandness of the nave. Still, the place looks pretty in pictures and we can now say, "Been there; done that."