blog -->, France, Parental truths
Grumpy Frogs….
A survey published today concludes that the French are more miserable than ever. In fact they are more miserable now than any time since records began. That’s pretty miserable.
When I moved to France eight years ago with my children I expected them to pick up the spirit of Voltaire, freedom, liberty and equality.
Little did I know that almost by osmosis they would pick up another, more obvious, national trait: the ability to whinge, complain, curse one’s lot and go on strike at every given opportunity.
You might think the average Frenchman has a lot to be chuffed about: the choice of endless sea shores, fabulous skiing, the loveliest city in the world, great food and wine, sunshine and the sexiest First Lady since Jackie Kennedy. Are they happy? Non. They are not. I have never known a nation grumble so much. I can only assume that they are worried that if they smile the tax man will assume they are hiding money and come and investigate them.
Tomorrow I am leaving my grumpy children and going off to renew myself at my new anti-ageing spa retreat. It is May 1st so I will be almost the only person in France “working”. But somehow I can’t see myself grumbling, however tough the downward dog gets…..
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008
01 May 2008 helena
As I listened to yet another voice on the way to school this morning intone “it’s SO unfair” followed by yet another injustice I decided enough was enough and instigated Project Happy. From now on all the girls are expected to tell me at least one thing which has made them happy in the last 24 hours. Sadly the only suggestion they came up with this morning was that a certain girl is moving school next term!
Enjoy the spa … I took the train from Durham to London and back on Tuesday just so that I could have the delicious 1 1/2 hour facial at the Organic Pharmacy, have my hair blown dry at Lockenego next door and have dinner with my stepmother at Carluccios. I got back at midnight totally destressed and sparkly clean LOL.
Er….Helena you did realise when you moved to France that it was full of French? It’s a national sport along with being gonflé. What I find the most irritating about the Swiss is that they cannot and it is not even a question of will not, they are genetically incapable of laughing at themselves, try living with that.
Julesritter.com
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I’ve been thinking about grumpy Frogs.
And humourless Swiss, dour Scots, grim Germans, suicidal Swedes and the Brits, who despite living in Europe’s only third world country, still mange to keep their collective chin up with a good dose of third rate music hall comedy, and Boris Johnson. I find it amazing that you can be entertained by the pub card one minute, cross the road to Sainsbury’s the next, and meet a sweet little old lady in the check out queue who will tell you how the niggers have ruined the country and a cartel of Yids have pushed up the house prices.
But this is nothing new. My darling Noël Coward wrote in the grey 50’s, when I was a lad, that there were bad times just around the corner.
G.
Verse 1
They’re out of sorts in Sunderland
And terribly cross in Kent,
They’re dull in Hull
And the Isle of Mull
Is seething with discontent,
They’re nervous in Northumberland
And Devon is down the drain,
They’re filled with wrath
On the firth of Forth
And sullen on Salisbury Plain,
In Dublin they’re depressed, lads,
Maybe because they’re Celts
For Drake is going West, lads,
And so is everyone else.
Hurray-hurray-hurray!
Misery’s here to stay.
Refrain 1
There are bad times just around the corner,
There are dark clouds hurtling through the sky
And it’s no good whining
About a silver lining
For we know from experience that they won’t roll by,
With a scowl and a frown
We’ll keep our peckers down
And prepare for depression and doom and dread,
We’re going to unpack our troubles from our old kit bag
And wait until we drop down dead.
Verse 2
From Portland Bill to Scarborough
They’re querulous and subdued
And Shropshire lads
Have behaved like cads
From Berwick-on-Tweed to Bude,
They’re mad at Market Harborough
And livid at Leigh-on-Sea,
In Tunbridge Wells
You can hear the yells
Of woe-begone bourgeoisie.
We all get bitched about, lads,
Whoever our vote elects,
We know we’re up the spout, lads.
And that’s what England expects.
Hurray-hurray-hurray!
Trouble is on the way.
Refrain 2
There are bad times just around the corner,
The horizon’s gloomy as can be,
There are black birds over
The grayish cliffs of Dover
And the rats are preparing to leave the B.B.C.
We’re an unhappy breed
And very bored indeed
When reminded of something that Nelson said.
While the press and the politicians nag nag nag
We’ll wait until we drop down dead.
Verse 3
From Colwyn Bay to Kettering
They’re sobbing themselves to sleep,
The shrieks and wails
In the Yorkshire dales
Have even depressed the sheep.
In rather vulgar lettering
A very disgruntled group
Have posted bills
On the Cotswold Hills
To prove that we’re in the soup.
While begging Kipling’s pardon
There’s one thing we know for sure
If England is a garden
We ought to have more manure.
Hurray-hurray-hurray!
Suffering and dismay.
Refrain 3
There are bad times just around the corner
And the outlook’s absolutely vile,
There are Home Fires smoking
From Windermere to Woking
And we’re not going to tighten our belts and smile, smile, smile,
At the sound of a shot
We’d just as soon as not
Take a hot water bottle and go to bed,
We’re going to untense our muscles till they sag sag sag
And wait until we drop down dead.
Refrain 4
There are bad times just around the corner,
We can all look forward to despair,
It’s as clear as crystal
From Bridlington to Bristol
That we can’t save democracy and we don’t much care
If the Reds and the Pinks
Believe that England stinks
And that world revolution is bound to spread,
We’d better all learn the lyrics of the old ‘Red Flag’
And wait until we drop down dead.
A likely story
Land of Hope and Glory,
Wait until we drop down dead.