An Englishman in Strasbourg

It is at this time of year that the French Tax directorate break the news to the general public as to how much tax they’ll each have to pay over the coming year. While I am sure it is coincidence that everyone’s annual tax bill lands on their doorstep right now, when they’ll away on holiday, I feel the timing is generally a good thing.

Firstly, because it is unlikely to spoil your holiday, as you probably won’t read it until you return towards the end of August. Secondly, having no doubt already spent a fortune on holiday, the annual tax bill adds that extra bit of impetus to get back to work and knuckle down (travailller plus pour gagner plus) for the September ‘rentrée’.

That said, while the British seem to think that the French ’socialist’ tax system is designed to squeeze as much out of the average tax payer as possible, I am happy to report that this is not the case. Take me for example - my little green bill indicates that I am required only to hand over 5.26% of last years earnings to the government. Good eh?

And the trains are still running!

It was our pediatrician who eventually decided to refer our 3 year old to a speech therapist having seen little progress in his language development over the preceding 12 months, but it was our pediatrician himself who gave us the best advice as to how to solve the issue.

His opinion was that our son put no value on the English language, after all he could see no use for it, as every other child he met spoke French or German. English was just this bizarre marginalised language that his parents spoke - and what child truly wants to be like their parents?

His sage advice was this “He needs to spend at least a month in the UK if he is to put any value on the language”. It might seem bizarre to some that we had not spent any significant amont of time in the UK since moving to Strasbourg, but hell we’d spent the best part of our lives in the UK and simply loved Stasbourg to bits - why on earth would we slope back to Blighty? This at least was a good reason.

So we spent the whole of June in the UK (at Granny’s house) and our 3 year old attended the local playgroup five days a week for the entire month. The effect was immediate, while still not entirely coherent at times, he learned very quickly to speak using the back of his mouth, and so lose the French accent when attempting new English words and sounds; he became much more confident in his use of English, and by the end had most definitely identified a clear cognitive distinction between the two languages.

How do we know this? Well he would start singing “London’s burning” and then slip into “Au feu les pompiers” half way through; both songs are about fires and fire engines, which he worked out all by himself (we’re so proud!).

Needless to say his speech therapist was amazed at the progress he had made when we returned to Strasbourg. Lets hope she clocks that one for future reference!

A month later his English is progressing nicely, but already we are concerned about the next hurdle on the horizon - he starts French state school at the beginning of September. Zut alors!

If you’ve lived in France for any length of time, you can’t have helped but hear this little ditty once or twice during your daily routine; because it (Le Brio by Californian rock group ‘Big Soul’) is played on French radio at least ten times a day, and it is one of those tracks you can’t help wiggling to when it comes on, even though, yes, it is in French.

Only Supertramp’s Take a look at my girlfriend seems to enjoy similar exposure on the airwaves (hard to see why such a mundane and dated track is still so popular in France, particularly seeing as it is in English!)

Quite why an American rock band decided to sing in French I have no idea - but it’s a classic, and worthy of it’s regular play slot a la radio. The lyrics are pretty meaningless - “I prefer Rock” being the underlying message. Heck, you probably know it already, but DJs rarely bother to tell you what they’re playing, so here you are - now you know.

I have included the original video below for your enjoyment.

Ready? Un, deux, trois, quatre …

It’s that time of year again when our screens are graced twice weekly with the fine figure of Nathalie Simon, France’s answer to Anneka Rice (a once familiar face on British screens some years back - which shows how old I am!).

Former windsurfing champion Simon now presents LA CARTE AUX TRESORS, a show not entirely dissimilar to Rice’s ‘Treasure Hunt’. Instead of doing all the running, Simon arbitrates from the comfort of her own helicopter, while the contestants do all the hunting from theirs; yes there are three helicopters in play! It’s not exactly a carbon neutral show, but holds a similar audience to that of le Tour de France - it’s all about armchair travelling.

She also has the honour of being the action-woman on the bull-fighting summer spectacular INTERVILLES, of which I have spoken previously. Being the youngest presenter (at 43) she has the task of demonstrating how each game is to be played before the contestants have a go themselves. This often involves dressing up in one of the ridiculous outfits and getting dunked / soaked / slammed.

But Simon is much more than a TV presenter, she owns a number of holiday windsurfing clubs in the Mediterranean and Caribbean, has put her name to various lines of sports clothing, and even written a book on healthy living (Mangez beau, mangez forme).

So, needless to say, Ms Simon’s celebrity status is hot property, particularly when it comes to advertising. But what brandname has Nathalie Simon chosen to put her name to lately?

Think sport, think healthy living … think Mars bars! Oh Nathalie!

Did I mention that she’s blonde?

It’s about time someone pointed out that cross-border on-line trading in the EU is a farce; and thankfully it’s someone with a bit of clout: eBay. The article on the BBC today suggests eBay is most concerned with transatlantic trading, but the on-line restrictions whether imposed by the EU or by businesses themselves can make cross border shopping a minefield.

We came up against a wall of idiocy like this recently when we tried to buy a toilet seat (yes - a toilet seat, one of those kiddie friendly type ones) from the UK. Every distributor we approached refused to send us the item because we were based in France; and their distribution channel agreement prevented them from selling abroad. In that case, would they know where we could buy it in France then? Of course not!

Normally we only expect this sort of static because of the billing issues (few UK on-line stores give you the option of paying for an item with a UK bank card registered to a French address).

Of course taxation is the big issue, and until tax harmonisation comes in (which I feel it must), we Euro-consumers are going to be perpetually stiffed by nation states protecting their VAT revenues. At the moment, as a consumer, if you actually want to benefit from the cost savings that cross-border purchasing can offer you, then you have to physically cross that border; which if you ask me - seems to defeat the whole idea of the common market?

Just arrived in the UK for a month-long jaunt, and I’ve caught a stinking cold. This may by due in part to it being on average 10 degrees colder here than in Strasbourg, or it could just be that British cold and flu viruses are much hardier than their European counterparts.

Whatever the case, I’m in England, and I’m miserable.

One of Strasbourg’s finest features, beyond that of its historic buildings, is to be found north-east of the city centre facing the Palais de l’Europe. Here stands the Parc de l’Orangerie - a masterpiece municipal facility.

Andre Le Notre, who created the gardens at Versailles, is said to have first drawn the plans for the park in the seventeenth century, but it was when the city inherited 140 orange trees after the revolution, and a pavilion was built to house them, that the park got it’s name. The Germans though are credited with much of the park’s current appearance following the Strasbourg exhibition of 1895.

Today the park is home to a stork hatchery, a mini zoo, a mini farm, an ornamental boating lake (with grotto, waterfall and fountain), a bowling alley, two restaurants, three play areas for children, a Greek temple, a skateboarding area, a mini football pitch and a fairground ride.

But it doesn’t stop there, the city spends a great deal on the park all year round. The Pavillon Joséphine (named after Napleon’s bit of fluff) plays host to a variety of events and exhibitions throughout the year. The ground staff are at work permanently keeping the flower beds blooming, the grass cut, and organising other seasonal features (such as adding palm trees for the summer, and Christmas trees in winter). Best of all - the park is practically poop-free, unlike certain other parks in the locality.

So needless to say the park is a magnet for the Strasbourgeois, particularly at weekends when the sun is shining. Although it can feel a bit crowded on Sunday afternoons there is usually more than enough space for you to enjoy a bit of greenery. It could be the perfect park, were it not for one thing … joggers.

Okay, not all joggers, I exclude the ones with rippling muscles who get up at 5am every morning and plod around the park out of sight of the rest of the world. It’s the ones who get up in the morning and say to themselves “I feel fat and unhealthy. I know I’ll go for a jog this afternoon.” And where do these people choose to go jogging? Along the canals? Around the parliamentary buildings? Around Wacken island? No. They choose to go to Strasbourg’s beauty-spot: the Orangerie.

If there’s one thing that ruins the park’s ambience it’s the site of ugly people (for all joggers are ugly) in ill-fitting Lycra, sweating, wobbling and blowing their way along the footpaths. So do us all a favour you people - go and jog somewhere else!