Day 12 Part 1: Maromme

Today wasn't simply a day to cover ground. It might be a little over the top to say that it has been a day for forging new international civic relations but I like to think that I've reinforced the entente cordiale in a modest way.

I'd arranged an appointment with the Mayor of Maromme, with the help of Jill Gore, the Mayor of Oadby and Wigston, with which Maromme is twinned.

A few weeks ago, I met an ex-councillor who told me that over ten years ago there was an exchange trip. However, the fashion for twinning, which was all the rage in the 70s and 80s, seems to have diminished.

Sure, the name of Maromme is displayed on the "Welcome to Oadby" roadsigns and we do have a "Cafe Maromme" on The Parade. But I guess a good many of my fellow Oadby citizens aren't even aware of the relationship. And though I knew of Maromme, I had no idea where it was.

My route planning for Walking Home was already pretty advanced when I was checking maps on the internet one day and there it was: Maromme, about four miles northwest of Rouen.

This was an amazing coincidence, our twin town was virtually on my walk. I knew I had the chance to turn a Paris-Oadby walk into a twin-towns walk as well.

Councillor Jill Gore was very positive when I asked if she would support the visit by writing to her counterpart in Maromme. Debbie, Jill's secretary, sent off a letter in February and we heard nothing for weeks.

(The Mayor of Maromme, David Lamiray, told me today that when the letter arrived, he and his staff thought there had been a mistake in translation, that it was not possible that someone would walk from Paris to Maromme and then to Leicestershire.)

Even as I was setting off for Paris, we still weren't sure if the appointment would happen but then, finally, the confirmation came through.

I left Rouen this morning, walking west past the surprisingly large port) and then north through Déilles-les-Rouen (whose welcome sign informed me is twinned with another Leicestershire town, Syston).

It was an industrial route. Small houses are squeezed between railways and factories, the largest of which made steel pipes.

As I walked a car pulled up in front of me and the driver got out. I'm used to people asking for directions and I'm ready with my stock response, "Pardon. Je n'habite pas ici."

But instead the car driver smiled and said that he too was a walker. He is planning a trip to the Alps and saw me use my GPS phone to check my route. He's interested in getting one and we had a good chat about the technology and its limitations (mine's not so good in city centres and on very cloudy days). We also talked about Leatherhead, of all places, where he worked in a restaurant for a couple of years. He was keen to understand my journey and I showed him my route plan.

With a "Bon Chance!" he was off and I returned to the walk north. This is an area of steep hills and most of the roads run parallel to them, in order to remain reasonably flat. Old houses were interspersed with flats and a few high rise blocks. It's not really much like Oadby.

[continues in part two]