Paris:- Friday, 7. March 1997:- Because I have other business today on Montmartre, I am throwing in this Easter 'preview' as a bonus for this issue.

Today it is exceedingly clear and is even nearly warm weather for early March. If I wait until the end of the month, it may be snowing - and as at New Year's, then I will be able to say visitors from Italy may be cold, but they are well-dressed and jolly.

First I check the Champs-Elysées to make sure it is as I left it last. There are a great number of people up on the Arc de Triomphe looking over the avenue, upon which a lot of people are strolling, especially on the sunny north side. The posters are not interesting, so I dive back into the métro at Georges Cinq.

As at New Year's, I pop out of the métro at Abbesses and as I remember getting lost then, I go ahead and get lost again. At the métro exit, the signs vaguely point to the Funiculaire, and if you go this way you will see no more signs.

You won't see any either if you take the rue Yvonne-Le-Tac but you will be going the right way. This street has only had this name since 1968; before it was the rue Antoinette and from 1840 to 1879 was Marie-Antoinette, after the name of the wife of one of the proprietors in the street.

This street is placed in part of what was the Abbey of the Dames de Montmartre, which is connected to the convent at the place des Abbesses, which dated from before 1672.

To get really technical, we need the Latin 'Sanctum Martyrium' or the Martyr's Chapel. This in turn leads to the time of Clovis and the legend of Saint-Denis, and while only legend, brings us to the Third century. By the Fifth century, this was the supposed place of death of Saint-Denis - who apparently had his head chopped off - on the north flank of Montmartre, not here; and calmly picked it up and carried it to Saint-Denis de l'Estrées. Ah, em. The legend continued to be amended, and by the 13th century Saint-Denis and his companions were refusing to climb the Butte, and therefore became de-headed at number nine, rue Antoinette.

After the long of it, the short of it gets down to this: persecuted Christians were martyred and their remains have been found on this butte, which is called for this reason: Montmartre. The Abbey was apparently founded in 1133 by Louis VI, 'The Big One.' His wife, Queen Adélaide, retired here in 1153.

What is remarkable about this unremarkable street, is that I had some difficulty finding its reference under its - quite modest - present name of rue Yvonne-Le-Tac. This 189 metre-long street is associated with the legend of Saint-Denis, a real Abbey with abbesses, the foundation of the Order of Jesuits, originally as sub-tenants in the Chapel of Martyrs; and legitimized by Pope Paul III in 1540, and was one of the largest religious - er - enterprises in France. Then the revolution came along and the whole was pillaged and then cut into lots and sold to the highest bidders, who then knocked everything down to open quarries for plaster. The Jesuits came back later and looked for remains, but none were found.

The present chapel at number nine dates from 1887. Yvonne Le Tac was the head teacher at the girl's school at number seven. She was 'deported' during the war, but died, presumably in Paris, in 1957.

The intersection of the rue Yvonne-Le-Tac, rue Chappe, rue Tardieu and rue des Trois Frères, is one of the most agreeable in Paris because it looks like the Paris you imagine. Bistro, tea-room and cake shop, charcuterie, butcher shop, and in effect, five streets - all together in one place. It is an ideal subject for a 360 degree panoramic photo.

Also agreeable is their relative lack of history. The 'Trois-Frères were the Dufour brothers, 'Tardieu' was once called rue 'A' and rue Chappe was named after the inventor of the aerial telegraph, one of which was located in the one-time rue Télégraphe here from 1794 to 1844.

Now I am at the bottom of the Funiculaire, on the street that is called place Saint-Pierre, which runs along the bottom of the park called Square Willette that has the stairways to the church on top.

This is where the rue du Steinkerque comes up from the métro Anvers on the boulevard de Rochechouart, this is the street that millions climb each year until they get to the place or the square, where they look... up at the Basilica of Sacré-Coeur, looking like the decoration on a wedding cake.

The place Saint-Pierre was created in 1853 by the administration of Montmartre (before 1860 the village had its own government) under mayor Piémontési. On 7. October 1870, Gambetta and Spuller took off from here in a balloon named Armand-Barbés piloted by Mr. Trichet. Gambetta arrived safely and organized an army for the defense of Paris, but along with several other armies, was unsuccessful.

In the warm sun, it is a temptation to either to go up or down, so I go straight ahead to look at the Halle Saint-Pierre, which is now the home of the Musée d'Art Naïf, Max Fourny.

I am not sure whether the building is a renovated version of the marché built 1868, or whether is it a conversion of a school once on the same spot. One source says the marché still existed in 1900, and another says the ancient 'halles' have been nicely renovated.

Either way, either around on the rue Ronsard or the rue Charles-Nodier, I go straight ahead and up the stairs, once called the Sainte-Marie stairway, and now the rue Paul-Albert, which makes it the second time in a week to be on a 'rue' of stairs, and I think these ones add up to more than 80.

At the top of the stairs, where the downstairs 'rue' Maurice Utrillo joins Paul-Albert, the rue Muller and the rue Feutrier come together - there are a number of restaurants, all with terraces, with most of their seats full in this weather. From here you can see sky and rooftops and up Paul-Albert or into space where it goes down; but you cannot see Montmartre.

At the very top of Paul-Albert, there is another unusual corner with a restaurant, and it seems like in another age, another place. There is no one about and breezes are rippling the café's awning. There is much sun, and all the walls are bone-colored; there are no trees, no green, but it is blue in the rue du Chevalier-de-la-Barre where it turns left and descends out of sight. There is little traffic, one dog and few pedestrians. It is quiet. It is like high noon; no train is expected. All the same I feel like waiting; just standing here watching the awning and the shadows do their shifts.

Behind the church, for the first time I find the terrace park, called Turlure. Only opened in 1987, it was once the site or a windmill, gone now since 1827. The park is like a northeast terrace of the Butte. You can sit with your back to the church, which looms overhead, and overlook an angle of about 70 degrees from north to east. It is very quiet too.

As I head for my ultimate destination, I pass by the rear of the church on the rest of the rue du Chevalier-de-la-Barre and there are more people in the space at the west side of the church, and the one narrow block remaining of the street with the long name, is absolutely jammed. Rue du Mont-Cenis looks like three 747's have just unloaded in it.

Cafés, postcards, trinkets, paint-your-portrait, fast film as I head north, and a miniature pizzeria with one table for two inside, each with a half-eaten pizza. It is past high noon on Montmartre.