Outre-Manche

Outre-manche

We are just back from a few days outre-Manche and I thought I’d share a few impressions of England as seen by a Frenchified anglo.

We heard so much French spoken on the streets at first we thought we were still in Paris. I had read of London being France’s 6th largest city, but it still came as a surprise.

We had booked a small hotel in South Kensington, which I later learned is home to the Lycée Français and an area known as ‘Little Paris’. It was election Sunday, and in the afternoon there was a long queue of voters on the street. Can you tell these people are French? I got very good at sussing them out before they said a word.

Lycée Français

In the bar where we went to toast Macron’s sweep to victory the waitress was also – quelle surprise! – French. Like most French people we met, she was relieved to have escaped an extreme-right government but a bit concerned about being sold to the highest bidder by a former banker.

There was no restaurant in the hotel so we went out for sustenance in the morning – and found ourselves enjoying continental breakfast at the French bakery ‘Paul’. (We made the mistake of a full English one morning at the local pub which part of the ‘Fullers’ chain and it was truly awful – powdered eggs!).

I love London, so our few days there were a treat. Thanks to Osyth (of the excellent blog Half-Baked in Paradise) for suggesting the tour of Spencer House – it was a fascinating glimpse inside a privately owned palace.

Still, I was surprised at how scary the streets were. Not because of terrorists or muggers, but rather because of the lack of clear rules for pedestrians. First of all, there is the issue of the side (left, wrong or otherwise). No matter how many times I crossed the road, I could never be sure which direction the traffic was coming from, so found myself like a terrified extraterrestrial, head wildly turning in all directions before placing a tentative foot on the street. While some areas were marked, others had no indication at all and it was unclear if we had any right of passage.

It seemed that there were signs and ramps for the disabled everywhere, but few or no signs for pedestrians. Not that the disabled don’t deserve the help, but surely we don’t want everyone to end up in a wheelchair?

Wheelchair

I was not exactly inspired by confidence when crossing this bridge.

We left London for the countryside near Nottingham, where we visited our daughter the future veterinarian for a few days. Everywhere we went, I was struck by how explicit the signs were.

Were you raised in a barn?

I’m not sure the fine will deter many.

Signs like these are worthy of a Monty Python sketch.

And in case you’re looking for the bins by the church…

God save the Queen!

Have you seen any good signs lately?

 

 

 

 

L’embarras du choix

http://candidat-2017.fr/candidats.php

Is it so surprising that in the land of 400 cheeses there are almost as many candidates for Président de la République?

After 25 years in France, several of them with my voter’s card in my pocket and a certain fluency in its ways, only now am I beginning to understand (sort of) how this whole voting malarkey works.

It seems that anyone who is able to vote can also declare themselves a candidate in the 2017 French presidential election. And quite a few already have – upwards of 150 by my calculations.

Getting the requisite 500 signatures of elected representatives to make their candidacy official is much harder: so far only a handful have achieved this. And today, March 17th, is the final date – after which the list will be greatly reduced. St. Patrick may dance a little jig.

In the meantime, I have discovered that the list of candidates contains some real gems. There is Super Chataigne (eh oui, super chestnut), a masked contender whose platform is founded upon giving democracy back to the people. I think it is a parody but in France it is hard to be sure.

You have to wonder why they would bother. It’s fairly certain that the vote will come to down to one of a short list of Macron, Hamon, Fillon or Le Pen. But it seems to be dear to the French heart that the election keep its balance, ensuring that everyone, including the Trotskyists, has a voice in the debate. Peu importe – small matter – if they are eliminated before we get to the first round. At least a diversity of views will have been represented.

A degree of pluralité, or pluralism, will mean that the next month will be interesting, even entertaining. And I hope the result will be less catastrophic than other recent election results.

Stay tuned as the saga continues!