Okay maybe not so much our babies anymore – actually nearly fully grown adults but as many a parent will tell you, they will always be our babies. What I want to talk about is the impact on our young Britons living in France post Brexit. Given that my own children have been here a wet week, by some stalwart standards, many have lived here a very long time and plenty of which were born here. Or certainly moved at a young age. In any event, they are all treated the same – British Nationals living in France.Continue reading “Our Brexit Babies”
Okay I will refrain from my normal joke…oh I can’t I’m sorry….getting a French licence out of a Christmas Cracker. There I’ve said it. Now that’s out of the way we can get down to the actual way you can obtain your driving licence. I’m writing this from my own experience of getting my teenager – Master Normandy – en route to obtaining his driving licence.
It’s all a bit confusing the various abbreviations for different permis de conduire and I do not profess to know them all. Prior to this my son obtained his scooter licence. He was given two road proficiency certificates from his college in 3éme. By all accounts you need to keep these if you then want to get your driving licence. We took these to the driving school which teaches youngsters how to ride a scooter, over a period of 2 days. This costs about, from memory, 240 euros. They spend the first part of the day watching a road safety video and then in the afternoon, learning how to ride the scooter. The following day your teen has a full day of scooting around the Normandy countryside and towns.Continue reading “How To Get Your French Drivers Licence”
So whilst I may be somewhat of an angry *Elf at the moment I still thought I’d crack this one out about how your language or lack of language abilities can affect your relationship. I’m fairly confident that this is never mentioned when talking about moving to France. When do they ever talk about the bitterness and resentment that stem from one person ploughing on with the language, whilst the other languishes behind on A Place In The Sun? I rest my case.Continue reading “The Language Relationship Barriers”
It really is. In fact everything that surrounds lycée is a bit panto-ish. The school bus, the enabling a lifelong generation of smokers and a kind of bizarre university approach but it’s not university in any way, shape or form. It doesn’t really know what it is and I’ll be darned if I know what it’s all about that’s for sure!
Sorry but for an outsider, from a very different schooling system, I still think lycée is a bit strange. Now, I’ve written about the structure of lycée here so if you don’t know how it’s structured, then please do take a look.Continue reading “Lycée – It’s All A Bit Weird!”
Oh do shut up! I hear you say. Are you really doing album fillers now? No. And yes, on the face of it, you would think this was bloody easy to do given that you live in France. How hard is it to find a French friend? Well, strap in and I shall tell you.
You’re in France right? You speak a bit of French or have the illusion you can speak right? Well, it would follow that you will make French ‘friends’ at a drop of a hat. Erm not quite. This is my take on it, as ever, and I’m sure there are lots of twenty-somethings/students in major French cities making French friends left, right and centre. But, alas, unfortunately I am not in that bracket. Mental note to previous self in a different life – move to a foreign country when you’re young, free and single!Continue reading “How To Find A French Friend”
Nope. Sometimes you think you have it all sussed. You think you know what a country is all about and feel quite the smug immigrant. Then something happens and it suddenly occurs to you that you didn’t get the memo on that one. Or the one before that, the one after and the one before that. I feel I have missed quite a few memos since my arrival here in Normandy, France. Continue reading “Dear France, Sorry I didn’t Get The Memo!”
When you speak French? That is the question. I’ll be darned if I know who the hell I am. I know for a fact that I left any shred of dignity, self respect and pride somewhere in La Manche, approximately 3 years ago, on the boat over. That fateful 10.30 pm crossing where my ability to communicate like a funny, intelligent adult drifted out to sea – coming back some time never. And there’s no one, anytime soon, throwing me a buoyancy aid. You really do have to sink or swim. Continue reading “Who Are You Even?”
Well that’s quite a title isn’t it?! I didn’t really quite know how else to put it but I think that just about sums it up nicely. What do you think? No idea of what I am talking about? What is this you speak of? Well strap in and I shall tell you.
No one would have believed (in my best Richard Burton voice)…that when we moved here nearly 3 years ago, that we would face a situation which is, quite frankly, like no other. I certainly have not seen anything like this in my lifetime.
Unless you really do live in an absolute bubble, then it cannot have escaped your notice that the world is currently at war. Not with each other but with a virus. Coronavirus or Covid19 as the French always refer to it. Continue reading “The One Where We Are In Lock Down!”
For those of you that are my die hard Normandy Lifers you may recall a few posts whereby I have told to never assume anything. Or assume the total opposite to what you knew in your previous life. Living here can sometimes make you feel you are in a real life pantomime or in some sick game show called “Total Opposites” only there is no prize. Nope. Just costly mistakes as no one tapped you on the shoulder when you got off the boat and said “oh by the way, everything you have come to think of as normal and logical eg car breakdown, insurance, tyre tracking and anything else related to living and breathing is defunct”. “Now on your way and enjoy!”. To read more about this warped game I find myself occasionally in and yes, I did say occasionally, as folks I got wise. I’ve graduated to a bit part role in the France Panto that is my life or as I like to call it affectionately (?!) “France. The lost years” you can read about it here. Continue reading “A French v An English Car Salesperson”