Hands across the Channel
As a student, I decided to improve my French and spent six weeks at a language course at the University of Aix-en-Provence. This is because I had signed up to a student exchange programme, working in Paris for Banque Nationale de Paris, having given an assurance that my French was good.
My arrival in Paris had two surprises. Firstly I was housed in a former maid’s room at the top of a block of flats, with no bath or shower, and only a basin with cold water. Secondly a personnel manager at BNP interviewed me. He was something of a caricature – a cigarette dribbling from his mouth and with a very Parisian accent, which was hugely difficult to understand. He surveyed me rather sceptically.
However, my time at BNP was most enjoyable. Contrary to the reputation of Parisians, the staff were extraordinarily kind and friendly. A further difficulty was the requirement to sit a written banking exam. Miraculously I passed, to the encouraging cheers of the 30 or so BNP employees doing the course. Happily I was able to move flats and had some idyllic weekends in Normandy, Burgundy and the Loire valley.
Yesterday I listened to President Sarkozy who really is trying to form a good relationship with this country. Of course France single-mindedly pursues its national self-interest in a way which makes us look amateurish. Whether it is setting the agenda in the EU, its defence of its agriculture, or the way French government and business unite to pursue the country’s industrial and commercial objectives, it is remarkable for a country whose culture and language has become much less important in the past few decades.
Lady Mosley, who for obvious reasons left England after the war, once said that everything desirable in life was French – wonderful food and wine, scent and silk.
I think a lot of British people, however grudgingly, might just agree - even if only in part.