Ex-Pats

Al Jahom has a thoughtful piece up today on ex-pats.

British ex-pats never really leave Britain – they take a piece of it with them. Whether they spend their days in Linekers Bar, drinking Carling, watching ManU vs Arsenal and gorging on egg, chips and beans, or they listen diligently listen to Radio4 using a huge directional antenna, and scour the Daily Mail for evidence of woes being inflicted upon the dear Motherland.

In a way I can understand it. Emigrating to France wouldn’t change who I am and where my cultural roots lie, however much I immersed myself in the local culture. I love France. To a lesser extent, Germany too. But I can’t imagine ever making it out of bed without a cup of Twinings tea; and cold meat before mid-day is just plain wrong.

While I wouldn’t be seen dead watching football, there’s an element of truth in that statement. However, during the past year, Mrs L and I have immersed ourselves in the local culture and language. The language bit is still difficult although improving. We do, however, still watch UK television. Have you ever watched French TV? Try the game shows and you will see what I mean…

That said, do I miss Britain? Well, I return every few weeks to work and every time I return, I am sharply reminded of why, exactly, I moved to France. The petty, bureaucratic officialdom (yes, really), the cameras and the spying, and, the fucking traffic. I drive 500 miles through France in around nine hours without pushing it. Four hours from Portsmouth to the M4 is reality hitting home with a bang. The French, generally drive better, too.

Perhaps, most of all, for me it is the rural environment. I hate cities and this week, mooching around London is purgatory – not just the dire, congested traffic and the dinge, it is the crowds. I hate crowds, preferring wide open spaces and you don’t get much more wide and open than the Larzac. So each time I cross the channel to good old Blighty, my heart is longing for the foothills of the Cevennes. Yes, perhaps Al Jahom is right, I’m a little bit of Albion on the shores of the old enemy, but isn’t immigration supposed to be just that; a fusion of the existing with the incomers? And, yes, I do keep a weather eye on the political front back in my mother country. I don’t see how I could do otherwise – given that I return regularly (and pay my taxes here) I am still partially affected.