An Englishman in Strasbourg

The French ‘Devise’ is well known to all those who have ever studied any aspect of French history. The three principles upon which the republic are founded are engraved into the very soul of the nation: liberté, égalité, fraternité (Freedom, Equality, Brotherhood). And these three principles are easy to see in action in everyday France:

• Freedom: The French will park wherever they like, let their dogs poop wherever they like and say whatever they like (which we British regard as quite simply rude!).
• Equality: Every Frenchman is born equal, more or less. i.e. there are no lords and ladies here.
• Brotherhood: How else would you explain French protectionism and the socialist model?

The result is a country that has patriot citizens from the wind swept Brittany coast to the sun drenched Cote d’Azur, each and every man easily identifiable by his belief in the founding principles of republic.

But what does Britain have? The Magna Carta. That’s it. A crusty old document that says the King (of England) will mind his own business. Hardly a rallying point for the common man now is it? No wonder the break up of the UK is fast approaching.

So, if we had to create our own British ‘Devise’ or motto if you will, what three words would sum up the British? Here’s a suggestion:

• Property: From the national obsession with owning a little patch of the planet to youth ‘Bling’ culture, Britain cannot hide it’s love affair with money
• Celebrity: The middle classes aspire to become Lords and Ladies, the working classes aspire to become Big Brother contestants, and the British press would not survive otherwise.
• Nostalgia: As a nation we are are haunted by the past; by the 1966 football World Cup; by the Empire; by Churchill, Nelson, Brunel, Newton, Darwin, Logie-Baird; by the Act of Union. And we’ll whinge and whine, until the cows come home, about just how good things used to be.

Okay, I’ll admit it’s a bit damning, and to be honest I wasn’t entirely sure whether ‘Humour’ should have been the third word; but when you think about it, the cornerstone of British humour is satire. Which is to say, our entire sense of humour is based on our own failings as a nation, which is just another way of whinging if you ask me.

So there you have it: your average Brit (as far as I’m concerned) will be a home-owning, Daily Mail-reading, whinger. Am I wrong?

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?

…is that there are many problems. Many of which are neatly encapsulated in my former home town of Frome in Somerset. With a population of around 25,000; it is not dissimilar to many other small towns up and down the country that together share many, yet quintessentially British, problems*.

On the plus side - Frome is now hailed as a cultural gold-mine by publications such as The Times, partly because it has retained many of it’s older buildings and therefore retained much of it’s olde worlde charm. Surrounded too by some pretty villages, scenery and attractions also makes it’s location hard to beat, certainly if you’re after a break from the city. But for me that’s where the positives end.

The sad fact is that Frome has been mismanaged for decades. Rarely has anything been done, built or planned for the public good; residential property development, commercial interests and a general NIMBY attitude by those in a position to solve issues have perpetually taken precedence over the actual needs of the town.

These are the things that upset me most about Frome:

• The town’s railway station is a joke. The overgrown platform is too short to accommodate trains of more than six coaches. There are only two direct services to London per day (five days a week) even though Frome is on the mainline into Paddington. The local service to the nearest interchange at Westbury (smaller than Frome!) runs once an hour - with no evening service to speak of. The ticket office has been replaced by a machine. A single taxi firm has a monopoly over the non-existent Taxi rank outside, and they are based out of a neighbouring town - so start walking!
• Frome’s dying town centre is congested, dirty and a nightmare for pedestrians. Attempts to solve this issue have included moving the town’s only source of commerce, it’s farmers market, to an out of town location six miles away; discouraging car use by charging for parking; allowing the construction of two large out-of-town supermarkets out on the by-pass; oh yes - and closing the central Post Office. Recently, a golden opportunity to create a relief road, via Welshmill, when the Singers factory closed, was ignored in favour of a (fast buck) large residential property development. Because of this, the town’s most picturesque street is still not yet pedestrianised.
• Frome used to be able to boast about being home to the biggest one-day farmers show in Britain. The Cheese Show, due to it’s importance to the local community at one time it had it’s own set-aside land near the middle of the town which although standing empty most of the year, was also a great open space facility to the locals. Now of course - a large (fast buck) residential development sits where the show once took place, and the Show itself now takes place in a field four miles out of town - and is now probably the country’s smallest one-day show.

Frome is now simply a large suburb (and property ‘hotspot’ (YAWN!)) serving as a commuter belt to far better managed towns in the vicinity. If the town’s (and Britain’s) masters had ever taken a vaguely socialist leaning towards transport, infrastructure and public facilities - then I might have been tempted back by now.

The contrary is what I love about living in France. All these things are placed above personal ambition and money-making because ultimately what the French value most is, not property or money, but quality of life.

*note to Management consultants - a ‘problem’ is like an ‘issue’ only harder to spell

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?