Normal

On August 9th we’ll have lived in France for 5 years. A post Brexit move – insane, but fulfilling a long held ambition. Today I realised that almost one third of the time we have lived here has been in the COVID world. That makes you pause, huh?

Slowly life is getting back to normal. However with all the cycles of lockdowns I’m apprehensive that we may not be open again for Christmas this year. We’ll see.

We’ve had three bright spots in our lives recently though. The first was a concert at our daughters pre school. L’école maternelle had a concert with the children singing. The parents arrived in the bright sunshine. Maskless. Free. It felt like this…

In the playground, the same density of an open air market, our masks went back on. The children sang. It was sunny. Perfect.

Then came the first gourmet market in our village…

Our second was tonight. My parents, who live in France,came. My mother, not much of a drinker, said to me “I said to your father, next time we’ll stay the night and get drunk. I don’t think I’ve ever heard my mum say that.
Simple pleasures. I long for normal.

Christmas Mornings at the Boulangerie

Firstly a very merry Christmas to you all -joyeux Noël!

I just thought I’d tell you about my Christmas morning trip to the bakery to pick up our bouche de Noël. I’d told you that I’d ordered this a few days before Christmas Eve and that the wife of the boulqngère was very specific about what day we were picking it up, I even had to have a written receipt with the day on.

So early Christmas morning, after the children had excitedly unwrapped their stockings, I headed out into the cold, brisk morning to pick up our baked goodies. Half way down the road the smell from the bakery hit me, so delicious. As I neared the bakery itself the bright interior lights revealed what was normally hidden behind the large tinted windows, to the dark world outside. The bakers hard at their work, making the daily bread.

I couldn’t help see the Christmas message in that on the morning we celebrate The Light if the World come into to save mankind, revealing God’s plan to a world darkened by sin. Do you know that the meaning of Bethlehem is “House of Bread”?

When I entered there were a handful of patrons already there and “Joyeux Noël”s were exchanged. The boulangerie had a busy, focused feel about it despite the few customers. I later realised just why that was the case.

Our Bouche De Noël in the grocery basket I’d brought with me I also bought pastries for our breakfast; croissants, pain au chocolat, pain au raisin. Two boules of bread also came home with me and we revelled in their buttery goodness for our festive breakfast.

Later in the morning we headed out to mass. The evening before when I’d gone into the potagère to let the chickens out id heard the church bells ringing. I now realise that this was for the family mass that’s held in the evening before. Next year I’ll go to this mass, as between that and the midnight mass the church was a lot less full that it normally is.

The church was founded on this site from the 12th century, with many features still there from the 15th century onwards. After mass we went to view the crib.

As we left for the church in the morning a line was streaming out of the boulangerie and when we returned it only appeared to be longer. The sense of hurried activity that I’d sensed in there earlier was completely justified in these sights. I know that come the new year the boulangerie will be shut down for a few weeks as the baker and his family will leave on a well deserved skiing holiday. Their daughter once proudly told me all the village eat her father’s bread, and they continue to do so throughout these main events.

In the UK when I was young there was an advert for a well known break down service and their tag line was “we’re the fourth emergency service”; well I think that accolade goes to bakers in France.

The bouche was, of course, delicious.

Christmas in France

It’s the night before Christmas Eve here in France and I’m starting to slow down to celebrate the season. After a marathon decorating session to get the living room pleasant for our guests, I’ve also been completing projects I haven’t shared with you; painting and covering 5 chairs for example. That and the normal Christmas chaos, sick parents in law and some teacher training days and I need to just stop.

On the last day of school the girls and I dropped round little gifts to businesses and neighbours in the area. Each shop we did so has thanked us on our next visit. These are all the people we first met when we arrived, so are essentially the ones who welcomed us here.

Unfortunately I didn’t make it to the Maire’s office in time, so we’ll drop off something sparkly to help them celebrate the new year after Christmas.

Our little village looks like this right now…

A few lights here and there, mainly the businesses and the town’s Christmas lights. It reminds me of the French town in “Catch me if you can”…

This is our house….

See that bright spot of light almost to the centre of the picture; our house.

In the UK this would be a perfectly normal, dignified display. Here it looks gauche 😂.

Our home looks so different; we moved on the 20th December 2017, so this is our third Christmas here. Just before we moved there was a Christmas market here in the village and we came. Here are my pictures from that day…

• 

• 

• 

And here’s our house…

It’s the one with the for sale sign; it looks so different. No marquee, no bushes and topiary.

I popped into the butchers on the way home from the hairdressers to order our meat. We tend to have a simple but easily made meal Christmas Day and then have the more time consuming turkey dinner Boxing Day. That way everyone enjoys the present opening and not everything happens on Christmas Day.

Of course there’s no Boxing Day here in France, so the butchers is open. We couldn’t get a turkey crown this late (we weren’t sure my husband was going to make it due to his sick parents) and so I’ve ordered a chicken to be picked up Christmas morning.

We’ll be going to the baker’s on Christmas morning itself to pick up our Bûche de Noël. They were very specific about what day it was being ordered for and when we’d need to pick it up; boulangeries work so hard here on each holiday. So we’ll have croissants and pain au chocolat Christmas morning and the cake after Christmas Day lunch.

On Christmas Eve France goes into holiday mode; all is quiet. In England Christmas Eve is the night everyone heads to the pub to get drunk! I’ve been in to Coutances, the local town, on Christmas Eve and they were packing away all the decorations as we drank our hot chocolate. The restaurant was going to be closed over the holiday. In the UK there would be this….

Different world.

Advent and Brexit in Our French Village

In this advent season, our second one living in our French village, the girls have been growing more excited as Christmas approaches. At 8 and 5 they are very aware now of the signs to look for.

Ruby had been asking about the snowman that’s in the road, so when we were walking home after school I knew there would be some excited girls when they saw him lit up en route.

As we approached the local bar with its lighted up Christmas tree their excitement seemed to reach a crescendo. It was the 6th December, the feast of Saint Nicholas and there he was passing out bon bons to the children. They were all invited inside for a hot chocolate and petite pastries for their goûter.

The man who runs the bar was very kind and, knowing I was English and recognizing my bemused expression, made sure I knew that we were welcome to come in and share.

That evening was the yearly Telethon were the village collects for disabled children. We left the house in the cold to go to the village hall. Traditional French dancing was held there which the girls loved. There were women dressed in the costumes of La Manche too.

All this is in contrast to what has been happening in the UK. The election has been raging, but I’ve only been half aware of it as our lives are here.

This is despite the stakes being high for us. Nevertheless the reality is that we are no longer immersed in that world, even as we are on the periphery of this.

When I woke up to the election result it was with some trepidation. Inevitable really. Yet unlike much of Twitter I don’t see the vote as evidence of a society descending into rabid, right wing xenophobia. Rather one faced with a self evident difficult choice, following on from years of watching the political establishment engage in repeated maneuverings, whilst blaming the electorate for their failures.

I’m obviously not a fan of Brexit. I’m disappointed and concerned with the result and sympathise very much with those who voted to remain in their belief that European ties formalised within the EU are a barrier against division.

I did after all vote with my feet post Brexit by moving with my family to France.

Yet even from that point of view I found the parties stances unclear, in terms of Labour, with all the leaders seeming to have serious personality flaws.

What the election process has made clear for me is that I must make a focus this year of integrating into this society more. To stop allowing the language barrier to deter me, which at times it does, and make myself reach out and engage in this community.

I’ve said many times that I can function well in French and many French people have commented on my proficiency, however learning the language is hard and tiring. I’m afraid that I’ve avoided situations at times because of this.

We’ve made friends though and I hope to deepen those friendships and develop more. I’m coming up with a plan how to do this and I’ll share that with you soon.

Children Living With A Second Language

I’ve spoken before about my youngest daughter’s difficulty with speaking which is a result of her need to be fed intravenously when she was born. As a result her mouth muscles were very delayed in strengthening. That and the fact we moved a lot when we first arrived in France meant she had some delay in developing speech; each time we moved she would take time to assess her surroundings, observe and learn new things about the environment.

However, now she is starting to develop her language rapidly. She is enjoying being able to speak so much and swaps merrily between the two; sometimes she chatters on in French and we don’t understand what she’s saying!

It’s wonderful to be able to engage with her more. Simple things like having conversations about what she’s done that day in school, who her friends are – those little, truly important things. It gives her such joy to be able to communicate and be understood. She hardly ever resorts to her little signs to get her message across now, reaching for words instead.

I would place my daughter at about two and half years in her capacity for language. As she has just turned five this appears incredibly worrying. However she’s super quick to catch onto things in the house, so I’ve always known it’s not an issue of intelligence. Yet, even if it was she’s my heart. Both of them are.

In school it’s affected her ability to learn as language is reciprocal; we learn through engaging, clarifying, reflecting back. She has been limited in her ability to do these things. It has led to frustrated and distracted behaviour in class; she’s not a naughty girl, but she hasn’t integrated as well because of these difficulties. I’ve spoken before about how I feel at times about living in France. It’s as if I live in a glass box, with the language being a barrier between myself and fully accessing all the things around me. Well, this has been her glass box too.

Yet it’s important when you’re travelling this type of road to regularly take stock and check just how far you’ve come, as the path ahead can still appear so long and overwhelming.

Last year at the start of term, when she was just about to turn four, the teacher and I were excited when she would say one word in French, English – whatever – in class. Already at the start of this year the teacher noted to me how every day there was a new word, and now new sentences and expressions. She’s developing her ability to use her language to question, describe, and explain her own world. Her behaviour has significantly changed too. All within half a term!

It’s been a long and at times worrying journey, but we’re finally drawing in line with the other pupils in the school.

If you’re in a bilingual environment already you will have no doubt heard that your child will have a speech delay in comparison to their peers. They are, after all, learning two languages. But, as in all things child development wise, they may not stick to the timeline professionals set for them.

It is important too to consider the extent of what they know. That two and a half years I spoke abut earlier; well that’s two and a half years in both French and English. In the practices of both cultures.

I tell you all this because if you have bi-lingual children (or simply children raised in a bi lingual environment), or if you are considering a move here to France it is important to consider the ramifications there may well be have in terms of language on your family and not feel overwhelmed when problems may occur.

For those of you considering moving to France I’d like to tell you that there has also been significant support from within the school and wider services. She has a teaching assistant in class. Her and another little French boy just did a short course of specialist help for two half hours a week after school. She has attended the local CAMSP organisation – basically the learning support department for the area here. All this has been free.

The support is phenomenal within the school environemnt. She was kept behind a year, which I think is a good thing, but they’ve arranged that she still spends time with the class she would have moved ahead with in library visits.

We now say we have one English daughter who is fluent in French and one French daughter who speaks English. She has all the expressions of a French child and just chooses whatever language that fits her communicative mood at that time.

This reflects how the two girls have experienced learning the language so differently due to their ages when arriving here. The eldest, who arrived when she was four, nearly five, had to learn a second language. The youngest, one going on two, experienced a dual language work as a norm.

Our eldest daughter is finely confident and enjoying the language. A while ago she told me she spoke better French than me, she was very proud. She will still ask me for french words, but her pride in her language has grown enormously.

Just recently we had a little bit of a conversation that wasn’t entirely pleasant though. She’d started correcting my pronunciation, which I was fine with. Then in a shop one day the assistant spoke to me, the kind of conversations I’ve had thousands of times by now and which I’m more than capable of. To my surprise my eldest responded for me!

The assistant spoke again, my daughter responded again!

I gave a look. You know, that look.

I let it go, but the next day when I was walking her to school we spoke about it and I explained that I knew her french was better than mine now, and it would continue to improve and far outstrip my own. However mummy needs to be able to talk for herself so that she continues to learn french and also (stricter tone) it’s very rude to respond on behalf of other people as if they can’t do it themselves.

I thought she understood, but then her friend came to play. Perhaps she was over excited, but she kept speaking for me, explaining the most basic of French phrases all through the day and night (sleepover). I’d already explained in more and more firm tones that this was not polite behaviour and she should stop.

Then I heard her correct her French friends pronunciation of a French word!

The gloves came off. I had to explain that there were such people who are known as know it alls and she was becoming one of them.

As I said, having to learn a second language has affected the girls in different ways. The youngest is aware of a different language, but it’s just life to her. My oldest, she was acutely aware and embarrassed by the fact that she had to learn a second language – she evidently felt isolated and at a disadvantage in comparison to her peers. She’s the type who hates to be wrong! For her it wasn’t so much the fact that she had to learn another language, but that she felt so vulnerable learning another one in front of her peers.

We regularly have conversations about this. I explain to there that her friends, though all knowing in terms of French to her, have to ask their parents for the meaning of words in French just as she does in English. This thought had never crossed her mind.

This year she has a student teacher. She came home happy she has English homework and announced to me in a stage whisper; “I know all these numbers. I can count way past 100. But I’m going to do them anyway.” The stage whisper turned into one of glee “My new teacher doesn’t know I’m English”

I’ve never seen her so happy.

Armistice in France

• 

We attended our second Armistice service here in France today. The school’s head teacher told me it would be taking place and so we made every effort to get there – even hubby the would be heathen came to mass with us.

As we arrived I recognized several people from the village and we stood on the verge of the church grounds as the brass band started to play and those who serve and have served walked behind. I became quite emotional; even though this is my adopted home I was affected by the poignancy.

It is a strange feeling. Again, the glass box scenario where we are a part of the event, yet our otherness is apparent if only to us. Indeed as the service continued many more people I recognized went out of their way to acknowledge us. It was so kind to welcome us into such a special event.

Those who are currently serving include the fire and police. Yet what caught my eye were the older men wearing their meddles.

France had such a different experience in relation to the world wars than we did. It was their earth the blood seeped into. I know too that they feel the scars of the second war in a different, painful way.

So often British people that have never served or suffered in this way take cheap shots. It makes me so angry. There were so many people in this land who continued to struggle even when their government had surrendered and carved areas of power out for themselves. This is a special kind of heroism; when those in authority have resigned their duty to you, but you continue to live in line with your conscience.

I find the strength of that conviction to goodness astonishing.

As the band came into the church service flags were held aloft and brought my attention to the stained glass window of Christ comforting the grieving of the Great War.

My attention was caught by the blue flower badges worn by those attending. Cornflowers that grew alongside the poppies in those fields.

With the mass over we waited as everyone left to walk to the cemetery. We weren’t with the main group of children, although a man had invited us to join them in the church. We saw one of my daughter’s teachers there, shepherding them to offer their bouquets at the feet of the memorial.

As we stood it started to rain and a kindly older woman offered us an umbrella so I could keep the rain from Ruby. She moved closer to her friend and I was again grateful for the grace shown to us.

La Marseillaise was played and our benefactor joined in, one of the few who knew all the words. We didn’t know any, something I plan to rectify for next year.

As we walked away I thought of the services I had seen in England. Her majesty had shed tears this year. It’s funny but the longer I’m away from home the more I appreciate that phenomenal woman and her life of dedication. I have no doubt that as her generation pass we will gradually lose the values they espouse. Perhaps this is why I became emotional when I heard the band today.

They have become a generation much maligned. Yet we have much to learn from them. Perhaps we should whilst we still have the chance.

Halloween in France

This is our third year living here in France, the second in our home. Although you see goodies in shops for the festivities, the whole tone is far more subdued here. By this I mean that Halloween isn’t as celebrated as much as the U.K. and no where near as much as America.

This is primarily because, France being a historically Catholic country, the feast of All Saints and All Souls are the more traditional fêtes. Just yesterday I was watching the news which had a puff piece about the sale of chrysanthemums – the traditional flower of these feasts – in Paris. They showed the boulevards lined with market sellers with pots and pots of the blooms in ball shapes. When we go to the markets or even supermarkets here you find the same thing.

The supermarkets often have great marquees outside with rows of the flowers for sale. People buy them to take to the cemeteries to remember loved ones who have gone on before.

Tomorrow I will join our parish at the mass for this feast. The shops will be closed as it’s a national holiday here.

The small school, being strictly free from religion, does have an end of term party for Halloween. However unlike America where costumes of anything you want to be is a ok, here the focus is solely on the ghoulish.

I’ve spoken about how I feel we’re slowly being integrated into France and our little village, but this Halloween showed us that we’d once again made another step into the heart of our community. Last year I had one knock on the door and as I managed to open it, having grabbed my bag of sweets, I just saw a small, Dracula like figure, running down the road.

I’d obviously taken too long and, we being a relatively unknown quantity, they’d given up.

This year we were quickly running out of sweets. Each time they knocked and we answered my eldest daughter would admiringly announce as the door shut « They were from the college ».

College is the middle school here in France, so my daughter sees them as sophisticated and worldly.

We are still a little shy and, having hardly any visitors last year, we hadn’t planned for the children to head out. Next year though I hope to liberate them.

La Vide Grenier and Feeling at Home in France

Here in our little village the sun is out, the blossom is on the trees and it appears as if people are coming out from their hibernation. At our regular market here on a Tuesday people linger longer to chat, or sit outside the two little bars to share a drink, walks to school are enjoyed in the sunshine. Heaven.

Our youngest daughter is finally speaking consistently. She’s faced an uphill battle that I’ve spoken of before; a life endangering struggle when she was born meant she was fed intravenously, leaving her mouth muscles severely weakened. Added to that our move to France and moves within as well as other changes have also impacted upon her. Her use of English has developed significantly, which is a relief. She speaks a few french words, but understands everything.

I write all this just to let anyone who’s thinking of moving to France, or who’s already moved with young children and is experiencing this, to anticipate that there may be difficulties with very young children and language; but that things do work themselves out.

My own use of French is finally getting better. Twice recently people have commented how much my language has improved. I find myself expressing even my thoughts in English now with the french equivilant. Instead of saying ‘I’m happy about that’ I’ll say ‘I’m content with that’. I’ll automatically say ‘voila’ instead of there you go. The lines between the two worlds are a little more blurry.

Having said that it’s still as if we live in a glass box; you are there but the language and culture barrier limits your capacity to fully engage with what’s going on around you.

Yet I am deepening relationships, meeting people for coffee and having some English people over for dinner. Gradually I’m using ‘tu’ and not ‘vous’ – which is surprisingly hard. We don’t learn french from our parents of course, so swapping to the informal means becoming used to the different tense usage. Sometimes I swap between the two with people and when I realise worry that they’ll think I’m suddenly expressing annoyance. After all it was Josephine’s change to vous that enraged Bonaparte!

It was a battle to join the health system due to difficulties we’ve experienced caused by our accountant. However, when I expressed this to the directrice at the girls school she put me in contact with the mother of some of the pupils who worked in that department. Something which had taken me months of worry and heartache was suddenly resolved. I can not express to you have grateful I am for that.

There have been times, as I’ve spoken of, that this glass box has left me feeling a little isolated and lonely. When you’re an immigrant to a country where you must speak another language it’s hard. Not only have you got to think of how you express something, you have the difficulty of not being certain that the way you are saying it is the correct way in terms of social norms. We’re not aware just how much cultural and social knowledge we accumulate until we step outside.

This Spring showed me just how much has changed. Each year our little village has a vide grenier, a sort of car boot sale. Last year it was on Easter Sunday but, this year’s moon cycle being different, the same early April date didn’t clash with the feast.

A year ago the weather was grey at that time and we knew, well, no one really. The girls had only just started to their school as it was shortly after we’d moved here. The main street had lots of places to buy cooked food and eat outside. As I was alone with the girls I bought us lunch and we had it inside. I expected an early end to the fair, but my eldest kept coming into our bedroom at 9 and 10 o’clock as there was an open air bar and people were enjoying themselves. She found it exhilarating!

This year we were more prepared and, even though my husband was away again, my parents came over the night before to take part. The sun was shining, the village was full of stalls and activities (we only saw a fraction of what was on offer) and there was a party atmosphere throughout.

What really struck me though was how many people we now knew. Every few feet we would stop to greet and exchange kisses with someone, happily chat and move on until another friendly face meant we stopped again.

Our school runs are the same; stop, kiss, chat, stop, kiss, chat….

Deus gratias.

First Bakery Trip Tous Seule

My seven year old went to the bakery all alone this morning to buy a boule coupé. She was very brave.

Spring In Normandy, France

God’s gift….