Oh dear, another vaguely political post – what’s happening to me?

As mentioned a few weeks ago. France is in turmoil at the moment over a new labour law. The gist of it is that the Government want to make it easier to sack people. More specifically, they want to make it easier to sack young people.

Perhaps not surprisingly the good students of France are not happy with this. They believe that unscrupulous employers will hire and fire at will, and generally exploit the young workforce.

In keeping with tradition, the students have been striking, protesting and occasionally rioting in attempt to get the Government to change its mind over the law.

We have a had a few ‘days of action’ already. There have been 3 mass protests in Paris over the last 10 days and many more around the country.

Now, if you watch the BBC or CNN then you would be under the impression that these protests have been nothing but a series of running battles between the Police and the Students. It’s quite depressing how the news channels continually focus on the negative all the time. In reality, the protests have been very peaceful. It has generally only been at night when the Students have retired to the bars and cafés to discuss the days events, that the various lowlifes that always seem to be attracted to this sort of thing have crawled out of their holes and started fighting and throwing petrol bombs. Yes, there has been some violence between the legitimate protestors and the Police, but very little.

Things are now due to come to a head. A number of large Trade Unions have called a strike for next Tuesday. Crucially, the transport workers are joining in. This means that the Paris and large parts of the country will be pretty much paralysed. It’s hard enough getting around Paris when the Metro and busses are running. When they’re not it’s a nightmare. So, even those who disagree with the strike will probably stay at home because it will be so difficult to get work.

For my part, I am going to be safe in Brussels for the week, so no day off for me.

The guy at the centre of this is the Prime Minister. You could almost feel sorry for him. He has his eyes on the Presidency which is up for grabs next year. But now, it is all slipping away from him. If he holds his ground, he is going to alienate a large part of the population. Yet if he caves in or even compromises (which to be fair he has shown no signs of doing) he will be accused of being spineless by everyone including those clamouring for him to climb down now.

As I say, you could almost feel sorry for him. Almost, but not quite.

I’m not really a political sort of person, and I have what I consider to be healthy disregard for anyone who aspires to be a politician. But I feel I must comment on the latest antics of the French President M. Chirac. Ever since his recent stroke he has been acting a little strangely. The country was burning in the riots of last Autumn and what did we here from the Palais de l’Elysee? Nothing. Now the streets are awash with revolting (in every sense of the word) students and again a deafening silence from M. Chirac.

But during the week, he excelled himself. At a meeting of the EU in Brussels he left because one of the French speakers at the meeting had the cheek to speak in English.

M. Chirac has never hid his dislike for his cousins from across the channel. He takes every opportunity to deliver subtle and not so subtle snubs. That may be fair enough – after all everyone has their own prejudices.

More worrying is his naïve campaign to restore the French language to its rightful place as the #1 language of Europe and maybe the world. Millions are to be spent on an international all French language 24 hour TV News service that no one but the French will watch (and given that it might yet not be available in France, that begs the question as to who exactly will watch it). There is to be a French language only internet search engine to rival Google. Cabinet ministers have been forbidden to speak anything other than French when meeting visiting dignitaries in France. French Radio stations have to play at least 40% (possibly more) music that is in French. The list goes depressingly on.

Despite his best efforts, the official language of the EU is now English as it also is at Airbus (which the French always seem to mistakenly regard as a French company).

Anyway, getting back to M. Presidents latest tantrum. He walked out of the meeting because he claims that “the world shouldn’t be built on one language”. What this means of course is that the world shouldn’t be built on English. If it was a case of an Englishman getting up and addressing the meeting in French, would M. Chirac have done a runner? Like Hell he would have.

I've read elsewhere that there were deeper political reasons behind the protest. Whatever! I don’t really worry too much about theses things, but it has crossed my mind that if the President of one of the strongest nations in Europe is acting like a spoilt 5 year old, then what chance has Europe got of ever really uniting.

A few weeks ago, I was casting dark aspersions on the UK’s Met Office for announcing to the world that it was spring, when the UK and indeed much of Europe was still in the grip of winter.

Well then friends and neighbours! Yesterday was what I regard as the first day of spring. So it may not surprise you to know that it was snowing when I drove to work this morning. Spring, let alone summer, seems as far away as ever.

Today was one of the rare days when I had to work outside. On these occasions I don’t really do much in the way of physical work, it’s usually more a case of watching what the customer is doing and occasionally giving helpful comments along the lines of “You don’t want to do it like that!” I find that sort of thing irritates them immensely. You can see it in their whole demeanour. Of course as representative of my company who is there to promote my company in every way possible this is not the most obvious way of doing that. But sometimes it just has to be done!

So, anyway, today I was out in the elements trying desperately to find somewhere to shelter. The lads I was watching were as unimpressed as I was. Driving rain, blustery wind and a sarcastic Englishman giving them “helpful” tips and advice – just what they needed.

At least they were doing something. I was just stood there getting colder and colder and thinking dark thoughts about the French weather forecasters who had predicted a cloudy but dry day.

Eventually they finished and we headed back to the office for some restorative coffee.

There is something truly wonderful about a hot cup of coffee when you are freezing cold. Even the evil French brew that they were serving was gratefully accepted. From the fist sip, I could feel it racing around warming me up – Marvellous!

As I have mentioned before, there are many similarities between the UK and France. One of these is the Cold Caller. These are the annoying twats who call you on the off chance that you might want to something and yet presume that you are too lazy to have already gone and bought it.

I can’t see the point myself. If I suddenly decide one day that the house needs double glazing, or could do with converting to gas, I’ll go and find out about it. I won’t wait for someone to ring me up at 7 o’clock in the evening to ask me.

Whatever, mum and dad Smiley have done a good job and brought me up to be a polite person. So in the UK (on the occasions I am there) I am usually cold but polite in my dismissal of these people. I do sometimes say ‘wait while I turn the cooker down’ and then go back to whatever I was doing, leaving them waiting until they decide to hang up on their own. But generally it’s a firm ‘No Thanks’

In France though it’s a different story. I can’t think of anyone in France who has our home phone number who doesn’t speak English. Most of the companies who might need to ring me have my mobile number and use that. So when the phone rings at 6 o’clock at night, and it’s someone who can’t speak English, I know it’s either a wrong number or some twat trying to sell me something.

So having established that they don’t or wont speak English, I indulge myself in a few choice phrases of quite unrepeatable Anglo-Saxon. This usually includes some succinct advice on where they can stick their phone. Or maybe I might call their some observations about their parentage and sexual preferences might be in order. I am sure you get the drift!

Childish? – Yes
Immature? – Undoubtedly
Puerile? – Indisputably
Does it put a smile on my face? – EVERY SINGLE TIME!

A couple of weeks ago on a Saturday, I had to pick Darling Wife up from the airport early in the morning. When I say early, I mean early – 0600. Being a Saturday, the traffic was light and we back in Chez Smiley by just after Seven.

Having not slept much on the flight, Darling Wife retired to bed, and I was left pondering the unique experience of being wide awake early on a Saturday with nothing much to do.

I decided to buy my paper and go for an early coffee.

At least once a week, I take the metro to work, and during the walk to my customer’s office at the other end, I notice that the cafés are usually full with commuters. I often wonder why they don’t wait until they get to the office before getting a coffee and usually come to the conclusion that it must be a social thing.

Even on a weekend, my favourite café was reasonably busy. Any thoughts of this being a social activity were immediately dispelled – the place was deathly quiet. Not a sound could be heard apart from the rattle of crockery. Most of the clientele were hunched over their coffee, minding their own business. So I am still no nearer understanding the reason for these early morning visits.

One thing you have to learn about French cafés is not to expect to get served quickly. I used to take this personally, but now I know it’s just the way it is. It’s not a problem for me as I am invariably in the café to read my paper and watch Paris wander past the window. I have to confess, this is a most agreeable way to waste an hour or so. In fact it is only beaten by being able to do it outside on the pavement on gloriously sunny day. Speaking of which, the temperature is forecast to rise this week, and I am already anticipating Saturday morning!

Anyway, I occupied a large table, shook out my paper and settled down to study the sports pages (it was far to early in the morning to attempt the crossword!).

Eventually, the waiter appeared. Being a wimpish Englishman, I normally drink “Un crème” (milky coffee). But this morning, in honour of the early occasion, I decided to do as the French do and ordered “Un café”. In case you don’t know, this is a very strong, undiluted coffee that is very similar to an espresso. If you ask for a coffee in France, this is what you get.

Jeez, no wonder the bloody French are so cranky if this what they normally drink in the morning. It was foul. It was like a jolt of electricity! Yuk, I can still taste in now.

One thing though. It jump started my brain, and the crossword was a piece of cake!

I crossed a picket line today. That’s something I haven’t done for a while. I do take these things seriously. While in the UK, I would never cross a picket manned by the union I belong to. If it was not my union, then I would have to consider the issues before deciding. Being in France I have learnt the strike could be about some major political issue, or for something as trivia as the weatherman saying it was going to be sunny when if fact it rained.

There is also the issue of safety to consider. I enjoy my job, and I have to say that over the years, my company has been good to me. However they don’t pay me enough to risk life and limb by irritating some brainless 6 foot moron who may or not have a legitimate reason for being on the picket line. Having said that, they don’t really pay me enough to drive amongst the French idiots I encounter every day on the roads but I do it.

Anyway, I had no idea what the protest was all about, and decided to go ahead anyway. Everything was very civilised and no comments made as I passed the small group of men. I was given a leaflet to read (being in French, it meant little to me) and after making a sympathetic comment about the weather (another cold Parisian morning) I was on my way.

Having arrived safely at my desk, I decided to find out a bit more. The strike was supposed to be countrywide, but in reality it didn’t get much support. I guess this was because the transport workers didn’t join in. Had they have done so, most people would have followed suit purely because of the difficulty in getting to work.

It seems there is reasonable cause for the strike after all (in the sense that is a genuine grievance rather than a petulant strike about not having enough free coffee in the workplace).

The French Government has just passed a law making it easier to sack people. The reason for this is increase employment amongst younger people. Confused? I was until found out some more.

Because of the French employment laws, once you get a job you have to do something pretty bad to loose it. The law is most definitely on the side of the worker. So because of this, a lot of firms are reluctant to employ people. After all, as a small business owner, you wouldn’t want to employ some person, find out they were useless and then have to make a huge payout to get rid of them.

So to counter this, the government are hoping that by making it easier to terminate employment, companies may be tempted to take more people on. The new law is aimed at people under 26 and allows companies to offer a 2 year contract. If at the end of the 2 years, they decide the employee is an asset to the company, they have to offer him a more normal contract that is in line with those usually offered. Of course, if the employee is a waste of space it’s goodbye, close the door on your way out!

That’s the theory anyway. Of course today’s protesters are firmly of the opinion that the unscrupulous Frenchie bosses will just sack people after 2 years and take on more low paid slaves in their place.

Now, I know the question on your lips is ‘Would I have joined the strike I if I had known the reasons in advance?’

The answer is a firm ‘Non’ I think the French workers have it good enough, some reality won't go amiss. Judging by the amount of traffic on the roads tonight, I guess the majority of people in Paris agree.

According to the wonderful people in the Metrological Office in the UK, it is already spring. When I grew up, the 1st day of spring always used to be the 21st March. It just shows their general grasp of the seasons is as bad as their forecasting abilities in general. Anyway, I’m not here to grumble about that…

I don’t know if it’s officially spring in France or not, but the weather is definitely still winter like. We did have a spell of mild weather a few weeks ago, but that is now just a fond memory. Frost most nights, some snow over the weekend and again this morning, and a bitterly cold northerly wind. The trees that line our road are still devoid of their leaves and the blackbirds that live in our communal garden haven’t yet started their early morning choruses. Flocks of seagulls still frequent the Seine and have yet to depart to where ever they go in the summer. All of which serve to remind one that whatever the weathermen may say, it’s still winter.

However, spring is on the way. I am now getting up in daylight, and it’s not getting dark until nearly 7 in the evening. Sunday was a pleasant day if you could find somewhere out of the wind. There is a general feeling of anticipation in the air. The local cafes have started putting their tables and chairs out on the pavement again (I feel this is somewhat wishful thinking though). I also noticed a few workmen pottering away around the flowerbeds in one of the local park.

So, however reluctantly, winter is easing it’s grip on the city.

I have to be honest and say I have never felt really at home in Paris, but there is no doubt that when the sun is out, it is a completely different city. The whole place just seems to glow in the sunshine. The buildings seem to have been made for the sun. Even the people are a bit friendlier (well, maybe I am getting carried away here).

Our walks along the riverbanks will become a pleasure rather than a battle against the elements. Although I enjoy the Seine at anytime of the year, it’s so much nicer when the sun is out!

This is probably going to be our last year here and I am looking forward to the move, but I really am also surprised to find that I am looking forward to the spring here for reasons other than the fact that it will be our last here.

We went to the Paris Agricultural Show this afternoon. I have never really thought of Paris as being a thriving centre of agriculture, and despite this being an excellent show, I still don’t. But as I say, it was quite an impressive show. There is a very large exhibition centre in the southwest of the city, and the show filled all of the halls and could have probably have done with some more space besides.

I am not sure if it was the meant to be the main attraction, but certainly the most popular hall was the one containing the livestock. This hall was mainly devoted to pigs, cows and sheep. Now, I knew that some cows and bulls get to a fair old size, but I never realised that pigs also get very, very large. I suppose that explains the term ‘a real porker’. Some of these beasts were huge. Fortunately, they were all very calm and mostly sleeping (possibly even drugged).

There were large numbers of different breeds of all 3 animals. It was obvious to see the differences with the cows and pigs, but the sheep were a different matter. There was pen after pen each containing one or two sheep, with each animal looking pretty much like the next. The only difference I could see was that some had black faces and legs and some had white. Other than they all looked, well, pretty woolly I suppose.

It struck me as funny that upon entering this hall, the first thing you saw was a McDonalds exhibition. Obviously, McD’s gets through a large amount of beef every day, but I still never expected them to have such a prominent position in an agriculture show, and certainly not one promoting the excellence of food in France!

Away from the animal hall, there were a number of halls devoted to other aspects of agriculture and fishing and pretty much anything that could be related to the countryside.

One hall seemed to be pretty much devoted to French Wine, alas Darling Wife was with me, so I was unable to give this the attention it undoubtedly deserved.

There were hunting exhibitions, arts and crafts, and all manner of country style clothing. There were even exhibits from Ford and SAAB. They weren’t displaying 4x4’s or tractors but just normal saloon cars. Not really sure of the agricultural connection there.

Another popular hall was one with the Pet Show. By pets, I really mean dogs, cats and rabbits. Well, what I really mean is rabbits. There must have been 200 of them. As with pigs, I never realised that rabbits got so big. I suppose there may be an element of force feeding them, but maybe not. Anyway, there were some real monsters on display. I couldn’t help thinking that the future of the rabbits on show here is probably a lot brighter than that of the poor old pigs. As I say, there were also some dogs and cats, but none of these seemed as charismatic as the rabbits.

Anyway even though I am of the opinion that once you’ve seen a pig, you’ve seen them all (no matter how large) it was certainly a different way to spend an afternoon.