I rolled up in Bayeux after a long time on the road, which seems apt, since Bayeux’s most treasured possession, the tapestry that bears its name, is a long, rolled up tome.

Much like its birthplace, the Bayeux tapestry spent most of its existence hidden away. And yet survived damage of all kinds. It’s a wonder it still exits. It’s also a wonder it ever existed in the first place, since it is unique in this world: 70 meters’ worth of interconnected, stitched tableaus, depicting William the soon-to-be Conquerer in his trials and tribulations in the preparations for, and execution of, said Conquest, both of England and of Harold, the man whose job he took.

Why was it made? We cannot be entirely sure, but whoever made it, and for whichever purpose, it was a stroke of genius. It is, amongst many other things, the world’s first comic book. Like the adage has it: the winners get to write history, but if it’s a history book for an illiterate audience, you need something more easily accessible, so what better way to tell a story then to stitch one scene after another in your story unto something akin to a giant toilet roll?

In fact it works exceedingly well. The main characters are easily distinguishable, and as you proceed along the rolled out roll (it isn’t really a tapestry in the more classical sense) you’re sucked into a tale of derring-do and action that doesn’t end before Harold catches an arrow in one eye on the Hastings battlefield and is consequently hacked to pieces (pension plans for deposed medieval kings being even worse than that of contemporary Americans), and England is Norman ever after.

Some speculate that Odo, bishop of Bayeux and cousin of William, had it made not only to support his relative’s claims to the throne but also to strengthen his own standing, as he is featured prominently throughout the saga, but we simply don’t know. It is well worth the trip at any rate.

After having enjoyed the retelling of how Britain became Britain, I went up the road for the retelling of another invasion, which explains amongst other things how Britain remained Britain: this one much more recent and – crucially – going in the opposite direction. It seems that half of Normandy is about the D-day experience and the consequent reconquest of Europe towards the end of the second world war, but few places describe it better that the war museum in Bayeux.

It’s not a big museum but it follows the same principle as the tapestry – describing the events preceding and during the invasion in harrowing detail, with plenty of imagery to help the visitors understand what it was like. Unlike the much vaunted, recently opened “D Day Experience” with its flashy 3D movies and experiences immersives, not to mention the innovative (?!) idea to tell the story through the clothes (!) of various soldiers (« I am Private Jones’s bullet-riddled jacket », « I am Sergeant Smith’s soiled tighty whities »), this museum gets the job done without being weird about it – much like the soldiers themselves, I imagine.

And so the first day of my one man invasion of Normandy comes to an end. I rest my weary feet and can’t think of anything better than to enjoy a good galette and a hearty cidre – much the same way I imagine G.I.’s have felt down the ages, from 1066 to 1944. Glory and fame may be eternal, but an army marches on its stomach, after all.