A slow train journey in search of France’s greatest small town

Next door, in what was the almost equally herculean bishop’s palace, local lad Henri Toulouse-Lautrec is fêted with the greatest collection of his works anywhere. The famous brothel pictures – neither judgemental nor sentimental, let alone erotic – indicate how sensitive he was to the nuances of human reality, perhaps because he was both actor and observer of the low life. A daily diet of absinthe, cognac and related pleasures killed him at 37. A short life, then – and quite a short man (a shade under five feet) – but he’s still speaking to us.

Now you may wander. You’ll be bewitched by ginnels, half-timbering, nooks, crannies, cloisters and, for lunch, La Forge Du Vieil Alby (laforgeduvieilalby.fr; three courses £17.50). Nearby, at 12 Rue Toulouse-Lautrec, is the artist’s birth house. You may not enter, but you might pause. Next door, incidentally, saw the 1741 birth of Jean-Francois de Galaup de Lapérouse, Albi’s second most famous son, navigator and what France had instead of Captain James Cook.

To end the day, cross the river back to your hotel, dine there – or maybe stroll the 100 yards down to the Planches Musicales, a snug jazz bar and cellar, with live music at weekends, planches of charcuterie and a tendency to spill out onto the terrace on pleasant evenings. End things with a swing. Tomorrow, you return to Toulouse (1h10mins).

Stay at the riverside Hotel Mercure Albi Bastides, a beautifully-sited former watermill entirely renewed this year (all.accor.com; doubles from £79).