If you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that you’ve seen this church before. Five croissants for correct identification?

Following Thursday’s gloom at Pont du Gard, the weather is currently misbehaving to the extent that I’ve been forced indoors today due to the unpleasantly low temperature outside. Earlier, I managed a quick sortie down to Chez Florence for supplies. Florence was in the business of selling fine fruit and veg, plus a tasty selection of home-made meals when I first came here in 2007 and I’m not surprised to find her shop still packed. Irritatingly, she seems to have acquired neither weight nor wrinkles in all those years and still greets me in the manner of one who never notices absence, apart from lasagne which is what I went for because it’s the best. On enquiring whether said dish was available, I was greeted with incredulity: ‘lasagne is Tuesday’, said Florence. Silly old me. I’ll have to buy a Tropezienne at the baker’s to make up for the disappointment.

This is the Tropezienne. It may not look much to the uninitiated but let me tell you, it might be the most wonderful cake in France: sort of a cross between brioche and donut, filled with what we might call custard cream, and topped with large chunks of sugar.

On the way round to Florence’s, I noticed that most of the population of our village was gathered outside the church, largely dressed in black. Must be a funeral I thought sadly; but when I left the shop, all that tooting of horns began as the wedding party drove around the village and off to the first reception. I suppose black must be the new black, or they’re all in mourning for the loss of the lasagne.

I imagine you think I’ve digressed when, in fact, I was just giving you time to recall the name of the church. Yes, it’s the parish church of St Trophimus in Arles. St Trophimus, first bishop of Arles, accompanied St Paul on his third journey so was pretty important. However, there’s a bit of a downside to his CV as it seems his later appearance at the temple in Jerusalem precipitated a riot. This was because (allegedly) he stepped over the barrier that separated Jews from gentiles. Same old.

Anyway, for those of us who don’t hold any particular religious beliefs, one of the most fascinating things about this church is the huge number of diverse relics present. To say the gang’s all here would be a massive understatement. My snap shows a couple of the Marys who landed at Saints Maries de la Mer, of whose story you know I have an especial interest. All the relics are housed behind a dimly lit glass screen. I’m pretty sure it used to be possible to pop a centime in a slot and have them all light up. This doesn’t happen any longer and I feel I might be confusing the experience with a funfair I once attended.

This is Jesus. I took the photo because I thought he had a nice face and might be St Trophimus. What do I know? They’re not going to make the number one look like a trouble maker are they, even though I’ve never seen him dressed like this before.

I find it strange that such a grand place, built over a third century crypt, is a mere parish church. Well, turns out it used to be a cathedral until 1801 when it was decommissioned. What! How can that happen? Due to some internal wrangling, the bishopric was moved to Aix and with it, all the glory. But wait – in 1882, Pope Leo declared the joint to be a minor basilica which, to my uninformed ears, sounds grander.

Finally, in a room on its own, and not in the penny-in-a-slot relic machine, are the partial remains of Pope John Paul 11, now a saint. It’s a drop or two of his blood that’s been given to the church. What I want to know is where has it come from? Did they choose a finger from which blood would be sent world wide? It’s the type of question, the answer to which, I don’t even know how to search for. I’m off to eat whatever that was I bought from Florence, followed by a meaningful Tropezienne.