This column comes all the way from French France. I know, my dedication knows no limits. As we are once again unaccompanied by The Teenager, we have gone the full nice hotel route.
Trouble is, I have realised that my slavish devotion to the news has made me somewhat paranoid among people from other countries. Not that we are the kind of people who tend to make friends for life on holiday. Mr P considers it a mark of a successful week if we have not spoken to anyone else at all, his theory being that he has to speak to people every day at home so when he’s on holiday he shouldn’t have to.
Nevertheless, I did find myself expecting to be an object of some pity from the French and other nationalities, on account of all the news that’s been dominating our headlines for so long, mainly: Huge Upset as Scots Vote No; Huge Upset as Britain Votes Yes and Huge Upset as May Says Oh No! That’s Torn it!
Luckily, on our first night, a French waiter reminded me that, whatever is happening at the moment, we are still seen as some kind of Basil Fawlty-esque Little Britain.
Waiter (in English): “Are you having a good holiday?”
Me (en Francais): “Oui, merci.”
Waiter: “Ah good, hopefully we aren’t being too French for you.”
Nervous laughs all round. Apart from Mr P, of course, in case there was any danger of being engaged in conversation.
It is never pleasant being lumped in with the rest of the UK when it comes to stereotypes, but what can you do? My only consolation was that there were quite a few Americans around. I figured if they are not too embarrassed to show their faces to the rest of the world, I should be OK.