The morning after the night before, Bapaume slept soundly. At breakfast at the Hotel le Paix, I discovered that my Swiss pilgrim compadre Marcel had also stayed at the hotel. I had first met Marcel at Wisques and then again as we were passing through Amettes. It was great to catch up and to hear about his plans. He too was staying at Peronne, but like me had struggled to find anyway around the end of the official stage for the following night (Trefcon or Attilly) and was pressing on to St Quentin.

We wished each other a good day’s walking and I got on the road a shade before 9am. The weather was bright and fresh and, as it was Sunday, I treated myself to BBC Radio 4 morning output. This had a very mixed impact on my mood, learning as I did about the Iranian air strikes on Israel and the violent stabbings in Australia.

The morning service from Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral helped to framed my thinking for the day. The gospel reading came from passage immediately after the Emmaus Road episode, where the disciples walked with Jesus, but only recognised him in the breaking of the bread. This passage has been shaping my thinking a lot on the road – the unfolding of scriptures and meanings, the time thinking on the journey and meeting our Lord through shared meals with others.

However, it was cooped up and afraid in the same upper room in which they had shared the Last Supper, that the risen Lord Jesus appeared, and said “Peace be with you.” As I walked along the quiet main road south out of Bapaume and to rejoin the Via Francigena at Villers-au-Flos, I dwelled on that peace that only God can bring, and on our calling to work to bring that about. So much of our selfish human responses are based in fear: fear of failure, fear of missing out, fear that others may seek advantage over us. This fear to is born from insecurity, which is so often manufactured by those with vested interests to prevent people from cooperating and seeking solutions. The first step to overcoming these issues – which act on a local as well as a global stage – is to follow Jesus’ invitation to not be afraid.

This is what I have found myself doing over the past week. I haven’t had to face any hugely scary situations but I have set aside fears and anxieties of other what other people might think of me, and opened myself; made myself vulnerable to the love and goodwill of others. This is one of the important lessons of the road.

And it was with this thought in mind, without any care for how odd I might look (or sound) that I joined the hearty singing of the Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral Youth Choir in singing “Thine be the glory.”

I like to think as an affirmation, I was shown this sign as I left the village of Villers-Au-Flos. Do you see it?

In Jesus’ cross and resurrection the world (not simply Villers-au-Flos) is turned upside down. All is shaken up: all is possible.

I stopped on the gravel lane before the next village for a drink and saw another figure, cutting a pilgrim dash, along the pathway. I waited, and hove into view, with broad smile, Alexander who was indeed a fellow pilgrim. Alexander was from Sussex – my first English compadre! He had just finished at university and planned to walk to Rome (with a brief flight home from Geneva to complete a university viva exam!). He was camping, had stayed north of Bapaume last night and had secured a pitch at Peronne for this coming night. We compared route stories, commiserated about common foot woes and then parted company, sure we would see each other again.

As I watched him stride, youthfully away, I mused that he didn’t seem to have a very large bag considering he had a tent in there as well. I suspect packed neither as many clothes or as many Le Crueset bottle openers as I had.

As Rocquigny appeared on the horizon, I was struck by the unusual profile of the village’s church tower.

This is still part of the First World War destruction zone, almost nothing beyond hardcore dates from prior to 1920. Most churches were rebuilt in traditional forms, albeit with more modern materials, so church towers and spires abound. However the villagers of Rocquigny decided to go for something altogether more exciting and inspiring. And I warn you, a lot of the rest of the post is going to be about Rocquigny Church; I not think I’ve ever suffered from such strong “church building envy.”

If you are not a fan of modern church architecture, I would usually advise you to scroll on to the end, but I challenge you not to be inspired by this wonderful building. I tried several doors – all locked – but the last one opened. And what was inside took my breath away. A holy space of beauty, light and grace.

Two huge circular windows on the north and south side portrayed Christ’s nativity and crucifixion respectively. The concrete ceiling trusses were pierced adding geometric form and more light; a gallery at the west, along with a plain window flooded the space with more light, and mosaics added to the beauty of the place. For my taste there were a few too many Victorian style statues, but for a village church without a budget to commission contemporary statuary, this can be more than forgiven. Here is a gallery of pictures of this extraordinary building:

To my great delight I also found that the church had a pilgrim stamp which I could duly add to my credential. They also had an exhibition on the restoration of the building between 2003 and 2013; it appears to have fallen into a parlous state of repair before being recognised as a national monument and received state funding. National monument status is much rarer in France than it is in England and Wales under the graded listed building scheme. What foresight those parishioners had to allow a modern designed building which means that, unlike nearly all pastiche country churches I’ve seen so far, their’s attracted national recognition and funding.

Well, as you might tell, this was the highlight of the day. My only complaint was that the holy water stoop as dry. I fought the very strong urge to fill it from my water bottle and bless it. I had to remind myself that however envious I was this was not my church (with small of capital ‘C’!).

I stopped for lunch at Sailly Saillisel and was wished a jolly “bon appetit” by a ten year old boy on a bike. (NB Somewhere to sit down!) Suitably refreshed I then carried on through the rolling countryside.

I caught up on the week’s events in the Archers and as I entered Peronne texted my AirBnB host for the night. I had a little time before reporting at my accommodation to visit the church on the main square. Partly because I have never been in before, despite this being my fourth visit to the town and also because I hoped to find a stamp. Sadly no stamp, but a glorious church, albeit lovingly restored after wartime devastation.

As it turns out, I am Valérie and Arnaud’s very first guest in their newly converted cosy flat on the Rue de la Madeleine. They were very excited to show me round and a wonderful job they have done of it too. They had even left a blonde beer in the fridge! The flat is just off the main square, and a shame I’ve not got more time to enjoy it – but it is likely to be long day tomorrow.

So with the smell of fresh paint and the gentle noises of a town that will soon be asleep around me, I shall sign off with my map for today: