For centuries the English have always known that we and the French are different, but it’s not until you come to live here that you realise how different. Things happen here, as a matter of course, that we cannot imagine happening in England.
           
At a road works the other day, a friend had to stop as a workman directed her, and then held up his hand for her to stop. He walked around the car and got in the passenger seat. Obviously she wondered what on earth was going on. He pointed and said ‘Camion’. His lorry was at the other end of the road works, so obviously she would give him a lift. Could that have happened in England? Would it even have occurred to someone to enter a woman’s car without asking, without her starting to think. Rape!’ ?

On a local market last week I bought some shallots from an old man who has a very tiny table selling vegetables that are obviously from his own garden. I picked what I wanted and he put them on some scales that he must have had since Adam was a lad, fiddled about with something that in no way resembled weights, then said 1 Euro. And I have literally just read that someone in England earlier this year was fined for selling in lbs instead of kilos. I won’t say which market because I would hate the ‘Euro Police’ to spoil things for him, and others like him, who just want to make a little extra income.

I went to the lake in Fourgeres forest late last July, and was a bit apprehensive as a big gang of teenagers were obviously having an end of year party there. I sat down, away from them, and instead of reading my book as I’d intended, I did some people watching. The girls were mostly very slim, in teeny bikinis, and were doing the usual parading up and down. One girl took a long scarf, twisted it, and fastened it around her head with the very minimum of effort, and suddenly she looked like a fashion model. Obviously French girls learn to be French women quite easily.  Then of course the boys started to show off, play fighting and crashing about in the water. So far not much difference than what would happen in England you’re probably thinking.

The difference was there was no alcohol in sight, no cans being thrown, no litter, and as far as my understanding of the French language, no swearing. The lifeguard was patrolling about, and we suddenly all spotted a boy running as fast as he could down to the lake and jumped in, naked! Everyone there, lifeguard, mums and dads included, all burst out laughing.  Yes it was naughty, but that was all it was. You would have needed very quick eyesight to see anything. 

One of his pals took his shorts down to the lake for him to come out. So no trouble at all, and going by English news reports and newspapers, trouble seems to happen every day with teenage gangs. I know it’s not all teenagers, but the point I am making is that it was lovely to see kids enjoying being together without any agro. My friend lives quite near a teenage college and each day, all the kids say bonjour, without fail, when they see her.

From an early age, children all kiss each other, or shake hands when they arrive at school or see each other out shopping. Could this be the beginning of respect for each other? If you’ve kissed someone at 9 o’clock, will you be nasty to them at 10 o’clock?  I know that there is bullying in school here, but it doesn’t seem as prevalent as; again, the English newspapers suggest it may be in England, or maybe I’ve still got the ‘French dream’ in my head?

My friends, who have a holiday home here, asked their neighbour if he knew of anyone who could cut their lawn when they weren’t here. He said he would attend to it, so no problem. The problem came when they wanted to pay him. Absolutely not, he wouldn’t hear of it.  It took several months of negotiation before he agreed to take some money for the petrol for the mower.

            Another difference I have found is Moi!  I used to get up at ¼ to 7 to ensure I was showered, hair washed, makeup on, business suit, tights and high heels (what are they?) and out of the door by ¼ past 8 to get to my office at ¼ to 9. From being a shareholder and director of a profitable packaging company, that employed 23 people, I now find that when I look in the mirror that person has disappeared. I don’t have a normal day now, but here’s one that I had last Friday.

--  Collected No 2 granddaughter from school at 11:30 as my son and wife were having a well-earned day off. When we got back to give her lunch we found the goat had got out of her shed.
Oh No! Granddaughter ran up and down like a chicken with its head cut off shouting ‘Where’s Daddy?’ and I try to calm her, trying not to frighten the goat.

I eventually got my hand on her collar and tried to pull her to the tethering place, but she cried so much I thought I may be hurting her. So I tried to lift her. No way! So I put my arm under her tummy and hopped her several yards and finally got her tethered. At this stage my heart was beating so fast with the unaccustomed exercise I had to go in for a cup of tea and a rest.

Then I picked 3 buckets of windfall apples for the pigs, and gave the rabbits some hay. The next school run found me spraying a bit of ‘Miss Dior’’ over the goaty smell and off we went. All was well until after I’d picked up No 1 granddaughter at 4:30, and yes! You got it; the goat was not in the tether. Panic again until we found her in the orchard munching apples. So the three of us pushed and pulled until we got her back in the hut, where we found a faulty bolt, and saw she was able just to push and get out.

Dextrous work with chain and carabineer (I can put my hand on anything!) ensured she stayed put until my son came home. And the daily outfit for this lifestyle? Jeans and what ever else comes to hand first thing in the morning. Great; nice and casual without having to worry what to wear. Until, of course, you just ‘pop’ to the shops and run into someone you know who still makes an effort.

Then of course, I do what all women do, go home, get changed, put a bit of make up on, feel better, but there’s no one to see it, and people will still wonder why you always look so messy.

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