Bread and Kisses

What's happening to our climate? On Sunday morning we set off for our annual pilgrimage to Britain from our home in Southern France . In spite of this involving a long and arduous drive, I normally enjoy it as we pass through the most stunning scenery of mountains, extinct volcanoes and steep river gorges. It is only when we hit the more industrial north that the contours become less interesting. However this time our journey was marred by cloud and rain. "Par for the course," I shrugged , for we have got used to these weather patterns over recent months, and I was dressed warmly, as if for winter. We crossed the channel overnight, arriving in Southern England to a beautiful dawn, as light cloud hung over the chalk downs, tinged with pink . By six thirty the motorways were teeming with traffic. The British roads were as busy as ever. But one thing was different. We had left the cloud and rain behind, and the skies were an azure blue. For the past few days this glorious summer weather has continued. In contrast to France , everybody is wearing light clothing . Even schoolboys have deserted their long trousers in favour of grey shorts and short sleeved white shirts. We are now staying by the Welsh coast, where the beaches are full , swimmers venture into the sea, and pale skins are turning lobster red. But what exactly has happened to our climate? It would seem that over recent weeks, there has been a complete reversal.On consulting the weather forecast for our home in France, I see yet more rain and thunderstorms predicted over the next fifteen days, while here in Wales, the weather is set fair. Ah well, we shrug, at least our garden plants will get a good watering.

Of course, one of the primary reasons behind this trip is to keep in touch with family and friends. But it is easy to forget that our cultures now differ. As I lean forward to greet them with the usual three 'bises,' I receive a mere hug instead, and perhaps a brief clash of cheeks. Indeed, this is more in keeping with my erstwhile, more reticent English nature.

Anyone for a Cuppa?

As you probably know, tea is the archetypal British drink . Whether it is drunk at breakfast, or traditionally with 'afternoon tea,' it is usually Indian tea and drunk very strong. Indeed, during times of stress it is often offered to all those involved. And in addition to the tea, one more thing is included , and this is milk. Whether it is placed in the cup before the tea is poured, or afterwards, is a matter of heated debate, but for most British people this is a most important part of the whole tea drinking ritual. How different from France, where we have drunk it black for so long, that I completely forgot to offer milk when sharing tea with friends.

Before we left England behind, we revisited my favourite pub in the beautiful village of Slad, once childhood home to the writer Laurie Lee. It is here that B. chooses to drink traditional brown cask ale in place of the occasional European lager. We also have a light lunch. Where once this pub would offer pork pies and pickled eggs, my plate of quail and olives feels more like French cuisine . Not at all bad! But what is this? Whereas in France a basket of fresh crusty bread would be set on the table free of charge, with even more on demand, our bread came at the steep price of £4.50( over 5 Euro), albeit with a little butter.

Cultural differences can be fascinating and fun to explore. But it is easy to get hung up on these, for surely we all share a common humanity. People in Wales are as friendly as ever, and it feels good to return, even if we feel a little confusion at times about where we really belong. But one sad fact cannot be ignored. When we left these shores for our new home in France, Britain was a member of the EU. I fervently hope that one day it will return, and the Union Jack will fly amongst the rest of the flags of Europe once more. After all , diversity is a wonderful thing, and we have a lot to learn from each other.