• Facebook
  • Instagram
  • Pinterest
  • Snapchat
  • Twitter
  • YouTube
  • Skip to primary navigation
  • Skip to main content
  • Skip to primary sidebar

MsMarmiteLover

  • Food
    • Recipes
    • Vegetarian
    • Vegan
  • Travel
    • France
    • Italy
    • Spain
    • UK
  • Wine
  • Gardens
  • Supperclubs/Events
  • About
    • Press
    • Books
  • Shop
    • Cart

Ma vie en rosé

August 7, 2008 3 Comments Filed Under: Uncategorized

I spent the year 2005-6 living in Provence. I think, somewhere in the back of their minds, everyone has a dream of living in the South of France…
I came here because I was determined not to put my 11 year old into the local ‘sink comprehensive’(1). I was even prepared to move country. Moving to Grimaud, I enrolled her in the nearest French comprehensive in St.Maxime. In France everybody puts their kids into the local school. Private school costs peanuts, around a £100 a month, and is chosen for religious reasons, as they do not teach any religion in French State schools (separation between church and state very important here). Unlike Britain, particularly London, where the sole topic of conversation between parents of 8 to 11 year olds centres on what secondary school you are trying to get your kid into, France has a comprehensive system that works. This means: lots of lovely well brought up children; good teachers; good facilities; school bus.
School lunches however, were a bit of a problem. I had it in my head that all the kids would sit down to tiny pîchets of red wine with lunch, hors d’oeuvres, plats principals, cheese course, dessert and mini expresso coffees. With the exception of the wine and the expresso, my fantasy was fairly accurate: how many English schools serve goats cheese and crackers with lunch?

Trouble is my teenager is a vegetarian, always has been. She was coming home starving. They mix everything with meat, she complained.
So I stomped up the school and met the hefty cook. She came into the school office wiping her hands on her apron, ready to do battle. Sweetly I asked if she could put aside some of the pasta or the rice but without meat so that my teenager gets something to eat.

“We don’t do all that religious stuff here” she declared “just like we don’t allow veils or crucifixes“.

In France, vegetarianism is a kooky religion.
The mothers outside the school gate, being near to Saint Tropez, looked like film stars. High heels, coiffed hair, full make-up (brown lip-liner a particular fave), colour co-ordinated outfits were par for the course. So unlike our own dear England where most of us mums rock up bleary eyed, in trackie bottoms and hair (Croydon facelift style) in a scrunchie.
Kids don’t wear school uniform in France. The girls wore the latest fashions, jewellery, make-up, heels, tiny skirts over long brown legs. Plus there were school yard fashions. My teenager soon learnt that to wear your backpack high up your back was the ultimate nerdy thing to do. You had to wear the back pack with the straps so long it is hanging down by the backs of your knees. Thereby removing any advantage one might gain from a backpack. This is important in France because all the kids have to carry all their textbooks and exercise books into school every day. There are no lockers. The bags weigh a ton. As a result, French school kids have terrible back problems.
It was surreal waiting outside the school leaning next against a palm tree. And hard for the kids too, trying to concentrate on academia while outside there is beautiful weather, a beach, tennis courts, horse riding etc etc.
My teenager was very brave, starting secondary ‘big’ school in a foreign country. The first term she was terrified: she had to get used to kissing everyone she met on both cheeks which made getting on the school bus quite a lengthy process. By the second term she’d gained enough confidence to start being naughty at school.
She settled in just fine. It was me that had the problems. Being a single mum in a foreign country in the countryside was no fun. I was bloody lonely. The French were not friendly even though I spoke French. France is not a ‘mates’ culture. They hang out with their family. The ex-pats were not in general the sort of people that I would mix with in London. Many of them were a bit ‘Del-boy’, absconding fathers or worse, actual criminals on the run. There were hardly any women (2).
It’s an ex-pat cliché but they did all drink loads. After a couple of months my kidneys hurt from drinking so much rosé. I grew to like a lethal short called a Slippery Nipple: Sambucca, Baileys, with a Grenadine nipple on top.
I was obliged to spend time with the bored British mums, none of whom were single (3). A typical day would be taking kid to school then meeting at the bar opposite Leclerc. You’d do your shopping and then order a few rosés or kirs. Cocktail hour started at 11. All they ever talked about was plastic surgery, diets and how much their husbands annoyed them. Next thing you knew it was tea time so you’d drive home gingerly, quickly tidy up the house so it looked like you’d done something productive, brush your teeth and make dinner.
Some days though I was so depressed and lonely I didn’t even bother to go to the shopping centre (which was basically the only place open in winter…off-season is deathly dull). I just switched on the TV which had Sky. I would watch all the medical and legal dramas and then start on the True Movies channel. I knew I’d watched too many True Movies when they started to repeat the same ones a few months later. I could have pretty much written the script for one myself. A typical storyline would have a psychologically disturbed mother/brave divorcee, who met with Prince Charming/axe murderer who would then steal her child and she would spend the rest of the movie overcoming the illness/beating the odds in some way. It appeals to housewives’ worst fears.
In the evenings, on non-school nights, aching with isolation (for there was no work off-season), I’d drag myself to the only place open, an English pub. It was clear that I didn’t fit in. One Liverpudlian said to me, you’d get on with M, he’s your type, he’s got a bookshelf, like, full of books.

I met with this guy M. I saw the famous ‘bookshelf’ which was singular and measured approximately 15 inches in length. M, however, informed me that he didn’t believe in fiction and would only allow reference books such as dictionaries on this famous bookshelf.
Sometimes you’d meet someone, get on quite well and then further along in the conversation discover that they’d killed someone back in England and could never return. Nobody was who they seemed.
One of the British mums, whose son was grown up, kept talking about her boyfriend. I saw a picture of this boyfriend and he was very good looking and much younger than her. Over the months she continued to talk about him. I asked why he never visited. She said he was working on a building project in England. One day though, to prove his love for her to me, she showed me a long hand written letter from him. Suddenly the penny dropped. I asked a mutual friend if he were in prison.

How did you guess? she asked.

Well, nobody writes hand written letters anymore, especially not ‘successful’ business men. I said. The lack of visits now made sense(4).

1. So called because it is a ‘sink’ comprehensive school, the standard State education. Other parents also contort themselves to avoid sending their kids to a bad local school. They buy studio flats in the catchment area of a good State school if they have the money, sometimes pretending that they have split up. It is a mark of shame if you have only gotten your kid into a bad school. Other parents pretend to be religious. It’s amazing how many children suddenly start attending church at the age of 10. This is to get into a church school. I knew one Jewish mum who got a job at a Church of England school in order to gain entry for her daughter. This whole subject is worth a post in itself.
2. This was because there is no work for women off-season, that is, mid-October to beginning of May. There is only cleaning. The men however have plenty of well paid work… building. For mothers it is particularly difficult because French summer school holidays last 10 weeks from the end of June till September, so effectively you have to work, not see your children and pay for child care in order to work the season. Hence dearth of women in winter. You’d think that’d be good for pulling purposes but let’s face it, French prime minister Edith Cresson was right, British men don’t really like women, and have a marked preference for football and beer.
3. Many of them came from up North so they were quite old-fashioned. Their husbands didn’t like their friends coming over in the evening. If I was round their house, I had to vacate the premises before hubbie got home for tea which of course had to be on the table as soon as he got in or they’d get in trouble. A culture shock for an independant London mum.
4. A similar incident: I was talking to a very glamourous lady at a baby shower. She bemoaned her life since her recent divorce. I was feeling sympathetic until another woman told me that the reason this lady was divorced was because she’d had an affair with the pool boy and decided to get rid of her now inconvenient husband by shopping him to the police for hawking fake Louis Vuitton handbags. He was now in the local jail. All very Desperate Housewives.

Recent posts

Air Fryer recipe: aubergine sticks with yoghurt, tahini sauce

June 20, 2022

A dingle in Donegal: seven-day family trip discovering my Irish roots

June 12, 2022

silver barfi pic: Kerstin Rodgers

Platinum Jubilee recipes

June 3, 2022

Previous Post: « olives
Next Post: Anarchy in the Republique Francaise »

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. caroline

    August 9, 2008 at 11:04 am

    Another beautiful piece of writing from you Ms Marmite Lover…

    eagerly anticipating the next installment

    xcx

    Reply
  2. Ben Emlyn-Jones

    August 10, 2008 at 7:52 am

    Interesting, ML. I actually spent two weeks in 1987 at a French school myself, as part of an exchange programme. It took a bit of getting used to. I appreciated the kissing and constant physical affection that is taboo amonmg the British, but is a normal part of French society; and the food! The school dinners were a wonderous delight for a young British kid to behold! You couldn't get food like that in the best restaurants over here! I did find the toilets strange though. The urinals had a huge picture window overlooking the playgound and I felt uncomfortable having a wee on public display!

    Reply
  3. Ben Emlyn-Jones

    August 10, 2008 at 8:02 am

    Speaking of France being a bolt-hole for British fugatives: did you know that Chris Everard is still stuck there? I actually emailed him asking if he's going to bring out a new film, but he's not replied yet. He was supposed to speak not only at the Probe conference we went to but also Beyond Knowledge in Liverpool and Now That's Weird in Glastonbury.

    Reply

Leave a Reply to Ben Emlyn-Jones Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Recipe Rating




Primary Sidebar

MsMarmiteLover aka Kerstin Rodgers.

Chef, photographer, author, journalist, blogger. Pioneer of the supperclub movement.

This is my food and travel blog, with recipes, reviews and travel stories. I also stray into politics, feminism, gardening.

Subscribe to my mailing list

msmarmitelover

Kerstin Rodgers/MsMarmiteLover
My piece in the @hamandhigh about the 3 day @heat My piece in the @hamandhigh about the  3 day @heathostile training course. Incredibly interesting & challenging. Link: https://www.hamhigh.co.uk/things-to-do/hostile-environment-training-9037980 to read more #hostileenvironmenttraining
Supper club dishes from Saturday: pickled beetroot Supper club dishes from Saturday: pickled beetroot eggs, cheeseboard, stracciatella & cucumber, tomato/strawberry/peashoot salad with real balsamic & spruce oil, home cured dill gravlax, smoked salmon, homemade sourdough crisp bread, potato salad with wild fennel & lots more! #supperclub #midsummer #eattherainbow (miss you @linnsoederstroem)
Last nights supper club. My first supper club in 2 Last nights supper club. My first supper club in 2 years was great fun. I’m pleased with my food, the guests were lovely, it looked magical in the garden. But the weather! I even had to bring my duvets from the bedroom out. They looked like refugees. But this brought even more laughter! Next event September
My first supperclub in two years will take place t My first supperclub in two years will take place this Saturday 18th June starting at 7.30pm. Tickets are £50 byo you can book here: https://msmarmitelover.com/product/midsommar-supper-club there are still a few places left. Pescetarian menu. Scandi and botanical influences. #gettingbackonmyfeet #postpandemic #smallbusinesses #supperclub #london
I recently completed the 3 day @heathostile train I recently completed the 3 day  @heathostile training course. On the last day I was kidnapped by ex-special forces for a few hours & learnt how to deal with compliance training & a hostile environment. It was one of the most interesting experiences of my life. 3 intense days of combat first aid, navigation & how to survive in a war zone. I handled short, long guns, mortars, grenades, bullets, and tourniquet & bandaged an amputee. I learnt where to sit in a car, where to hide from a bullet, where to protect myself if in a car. It was brilliant. Highly recommended for any journalists, photographers, cameramen, charity workers, paramedics going into any difficult environment say a disaster or war. The stories from the tutors & the other participants were so interesting. My piece on it out soon. Book a course: https://hostile-environment.co.uk/  They also do jungle & desert training. I’d love to join the Antarctic expedition. Anyway that’s me hooded in the front. #adventures #het #hostileenvironmenttraining #experiences #travel
Bundoran beach, Donegal. I spent a week knocking o Bundoran beach, Donegal. I spent a week knocking on doors, going to libraries, searching through graveyards for my Irish forebears. It’s really hard to find information prior to 1850. I found this in last years trip to Arbroath in Scotland. Headstones wear out, records are lost or burnt in a fire, everybody has the same name and are known by nicknames, successive children have the same first name, that usually means they died and the next one is called by the same thing. Women did have children out of wedlock, and people remarried more often than you’d think, plus families fall out & never see each other again. I learnt that my Irish great grandfather michael went to Glasgow & met a woman who came from a similar place: somewhere wild & beautiful by the sea. Then they and their children came to london. Chasing the work & the money always. Politics and economics matter for they push people around from rural to city. And now we rodgers are Londoners. #ireland #scotland #family #travel #roots
How some of us celebrate the Queen’s jubilee! My How some of us celebrate the Queen’s jubilee! My sister & a random Irishman come for the Rory Gallagher festival in ballyshannon. Sis has pulled already!  #getyourcoat #sexpistols #ballyshannon #rorygallagherfestival #ireland
Tullaghan, county Leitrim, Donegal, where my grea Tullaghan, county Leitrim, Donegal,  where my great great grandfather john Rodgers was a postman, then a tailor, then a pawnbroker. #irishheritage #donegal #myancestry #irish #rodgers #travel
I’ve taken down the previous post as it’s poor I’ve taken down the previous post as it’s poor timing considering what’s happened over the last 24 hours. Being British I’ve not grown up around guns. It’s interesting to be on this course and find out more about the reality of them, although my focus is learning the ‘golden triangle’ of first aid, communications and navigation. But at the same time It’s depressing how in America nothing will ever change regarding gun law. RIP.
Me as a punk. #pinkhair @caplanmelissa Me as a punk. #pinkhair @caplanmelissa
Sniffin’ glue: Me n @Jaybladesmbe at the Loctite Sniffin’ glue: Me n @Jaybladesmbe at the Loctite pop up yesterday. I’m all about repairing and upcycling my brocante finds: this time a beautiful pale wood lamp shade stand which had broken off at the bottom. I’m going to rewire it with 2 core sky blue twisted fabric wire, pop on my hand sewn pleated lampshade I learnt to do @workshopminerva and it shall be beautiful. Don’t chuck out your chintz: repair it! #therepairshop #selfie #interiors #popup
in June I’m having my first supper club in two y in June I’m having my first supper club in two years: here is the link to book: https://msmarmitelover.com/product/midsommar-supper-club £50 18th June  Saturday night. Byo.
#chelseaflower coming up. Last year I bought these succulents and planted them in a vintage zinc garden sieve. Now they are flowering. My balcony is like a little greenhouse: I can grow aubergines & other plants that usually need to be under glass. #londongarden #may #plants #succulents in the garden
Lemon drizzle cake. The trick is not to stint on t Lemon drizzle cake. The trick is not to stint on the citrus. I used 7: 2 Italian lemons (from Lidl):some ordinary lemons and some limes (18p) at Lidl. Don’t be afraid to mix and match your citrus. I also used buttermilk from @fenfarmdairy in Suffolk from their honesty shop. Last night we ate it still warm from the oven. #cake #lemondrizzle #homebaking #citrus #buttermilk
A Simple tomato, goats cheese and basil salad, spa A Simple tomato, goats cheese and basil salad, spanking fresh asparagus / fried in olive oil, season, then add a little boiling water, not too much, put on the lid, dressed with lemon zest & Parmesan, @fenfarmdairy baron bigod cheese, good bread. This is how I like to eat. Claire’s plates found at the beccles brocante. #suffolk #suffolkfood #supper #dinnerwithfriends  #vintageplates
Can’t wait to see what they will be like when th Can’t wait to see what they will be like when they are fired. All my favourite themes: gingham and scallops. Thanks to @clairebelljar for a wonderful weekend and pottery workshop. Such fun! #workingwithyourhands #playtime #creativity #ceramics #pottery #suffolk
Making plates with talented potter & old South Ham Making plates with talented potter & old South Hampstead girl @clairebelljar in Suffolk. She has the most beautiful house I’ve ever seen. Such a joy to be reunited with her. #friendsreunited #makers #potters #scalloped #wildflowers #cowparsley #pottery
Another budget gourmet recipe, the Sicilian capona Another budget gourmet recipe, the Sicilian caponata, which is like a more interesting ratatouille, in which you add capers, olives & vinegar. £2.50p. I was asked to develop a series of recipes which were delicious enough to serve at a dinner party but also cheap. I shopped at Lidl. #costoflivingcrisis #budgetgourmet #recipe #vegetarian #vegan #lidluk
Mackerel pâté, a recipe that cost under £2.50. Mackerel pâté, a recipe that cost under £2.50. Lemon & herb smoked mackerel fillets from @lidl (take off skin)3 big scoops creme fraiche from Lidl and juice of half a lemon. Blend. Plenty of black pepper. Serve with bread. #budgetgourmet #costoflivingcrisis #eatorheat
Just wrote a very personal piece for @hamandhigh o Just wrote a very personal piece for @hamandhigh on my decade as a single parent on benefits, how I learned to cook & how things are so much harder now because not only are ingredients pricier but the cost of cooking them is too. 3 budget gourmet meals serving 4, for £2.50 each. #costoflivingcrisis #budgetgourmet #povertyshame #singleparents #foodblogger
Easter Sunday. Daffodil skeletons. Easter Sunday. Daffodil skeletons.
Load More... Follow on Instagram

Archives

Copyright © 2022 msmarmitelover