Flossie's French gloss on northern ways

When the French au pair who was to become my wife arrived in Darlington - well it sounded nice if translated as ville des choux choux - one local custom perplexed her.

As I mentioned long ago at Another Place, she could not believe her eyes when she saw that the local evening newspaper was available from an open, unmanned stand.

There was also an honesty box into which, almost without fail, people conscientiously placed their coins. The French, she laughed, would be far too "crafty" to respect such a custom, and no newspaper publisher would be daft enough to trust them to.

A delightful French teacher and singer called Flossie Malavialle, of whom you can read, see and hear more at Salut! Live, has been telling me of the eye-opening aspects of her own first impressions on following in Mme Salut!'s footsteps from France to the same northern town.

No crafty dishonesty here. Stand by for a painfully honest if ultimately affectionate assessment.

Flossie had set her heart on teaching in the UK. Her first ambition was a post in Scotland, but there was no Scottish counterpart available to complete the exchange.

In Stockton-on-Tees, however, was a woman who, irrational as it may seem, had formed the view that life could well be sunnier and more fun in Nimes. Flossie accordingly found herself heading for the North East, to take the Englishwoman's job in Stockton. She went home after the year-long exchange but soon returned to the North East and settled in Darlington.

Decide for yourselves which photograph depicts Nimes and which Darlington....and let Flossie take up her own story:

Adjusting to life in the North East was something else for me...although I could speak English, I found it hard to understand the locals and the kids in school as well!! So it was a long process to get to grips with the accents, expressions etc...I also found life very expensive (and still do!), especially diesel. Everything in general seemed to be so much dearer here than in France. I was also amazed at the number of people being tattooed, pierced, wearing the same tracksuit bottoms and caps... the number of pushchairs and young irresponsible mums behind them.. I discovered the chav culture! And the consumption of alcohol in this country never ceases to amaze me. Appalling rather than amazing, really.

But at least we have saving graces:

....I do find people in the North East friendly and helpful. I drive a lot with the singing and I get to meet loads of people along the way. I must say I've always been nicely surprised by the smiles and the help I get whenever I'm lost or stuck somewhere. Overall, I prefer the respectful attitude of the English in shops, on the roads etc...and in life in general. I don't like the arrogance of some French people and the way they think they can always get away with it when they are on strike. Of course, the sunshine is not particularly present here but it's not just about sunshine, is it? It's about doing something that you like....I've only come across nice friendly people who didn't care whether I was French or not. So much for the so-called animosity between the French and the English and vice versa! People give me bookings because I'm French.

Flossie is hardly the first French person to be taken aback by our drinking excesses, our social and climatic shortcomings and the occasional lapse in fashion taste.

But nor is she the first to warm to the friendliness of northerners. During nine months of living in Le Lavandou, we received no invitations from neighbours to visit their homes.

Within hours of setting up our first marital home, in north-west Durham, we were being offered endless cups of tea, a full rundown on the local gossip and even the information that another Frenchwoman lived in the same one-street village.

There was also no shortage of neighbours' spades, shovels and elbow grease to help us dig our car - actually it was a van - out of three feet of snow. But then, there'd have been no need to dig anything out of snow in the south of France.

Comments

[PhilipH]

May I add that the French always seemed to run true to form when they did have to dig out their cars after a snowfall in l'Alpe d'Huez where we lived.

The norm was to pile it over, on and around the car next to theirs. And if their "pelle" happens to slice down the adjacent car, well, it shouldn't have been parked so close!

The Huizats regard the week of the Paris school holidays as their week of hell.

[Dumdad]

Interesting and fair assessment by Flossie (love the name!)

[Marty E]

I'm not surprised you didn't get any invites in France with your table manners!

And perhaps all of the invites that came when you got married were from people, up in those dark Durham hills, who saw another couple to add to the Friday night car keys in the pot club.

[Bill Taylor]

Those glorious milestones just keep piling up. I notice that Colin -- whose table manners, I can report first-hand, are quite adequate -- is well on his way to 105,000 visitors here. A suitable commemoration is in the works, I trust?

[dave eyre]

According to this http://economist.com/daily/chartgallery/displaystory.cfm?story_id=9325487 the country that drinks the most per head is Luxembourg, and the difference between the UK and France is small. The perceived differences are I suggest is that we drink ours in the space of a few hours and mainly in public, the French all day and a lot of it at home in the form of wine.

The problem (IMHO) with the booze culture in the UK is the fighting, arguing, irresponsible behaviour and domestic violence that goes with it.

They should be made to become morris dancers and thus learn to drink with a modicum of responsibility.

[joelle randall]

Colin is talking rubbish.

I do not recall having been invited to dinner by our neightbours in the 23 years we have lived here. Besides our neighbours in France could not be nicer and helpful.

So please leave the poor French alone. They get enough agro from the Sun and the News of the World without you adding to it.

[Bill Taylor]

Bravo, Joelle!!!

[Bill Taylor]

I've never understood the English obsession with socializing with the neighbours -- in and out of each other's houses, trading endless cups of tea and tittle-tattle.
By all means, be on friendly terms with these people; offer help where and when necessary. Even mind their cat when they go on vacation. But why the desire to spend precious hours of your leisure time with them?
The old saw about being able to choose your friends but not your family can be extended to not (or rarely) being able to choose your neighbours. Which is where that other old saw comes from, the one about strong fences making good neighbours.
But perhaps Colin was just anxious for a chance to show off his table manners........

[j]

Don't know much about social mores in other regions, but here in S.W.France it's up to the new arrival to invite the neighbours round for an apéro/crémaillère, and not vice versa. If it's not done witin a few weeks of moving in you'll be labelled as "sauvage" (unsociable) and suffer the consequences.

[j]

Don't know much about social mores in other regions, but here in S.W.France it's up to the new arrival to invite the neighbours round for an apéro/crémaillère, and not vice versa. If it's not done witin a few weeks of moving in you'll be labelled as "sauvage" (unsociable) and suffer the consequences.

[Bill Taylor]

Better hope that when the day comes for you to move back to Le Lavandou, the neighbours have forgotten your "sauvagery" and respond positively to the invitation you will surely issue tout de suite. Perhaps then you'll also start finding a supply of badminton partners.