Significant days, dates and times

Today is La Chandeleur, or Candlemass Day, significant for being the mid-way point between the shortest day and the spring equinox, as well as the Catholic feast of the purification of the Virgin Mary, forty days after Christmas. 

There are many traditions associated with Candlemass day. Here in France pancakes are eaten and it is believed that successfully tossing them while holding a coin in your writing hand, will bring prosperity for your family this year. Tossing pancakes, in either my left or right hand, has never been one of my talents, but as Bernadette at the village boulangerie had made the effort to cook a stack of real French crêpes this morning, I have placed my chances of prosperity for the year in her expert hands.

This year the date is also palindromic 02/02/2020 and it happens to be the 33^rd day of a leap year, leaving 333 days remaining. For number nerds like me, these numeric patterns are quite significant, although I can’t say I can feel any positive vibes coming from them this year.

Citizen of Europe

What is also significant is the seismic shift that occurred in our lives this weekend. No longer are we EU citizens living in another EU state from where we were born. We are now classed as third country nationals. We have lost our right to vote in France or stand for election to the local council, and as we have been out of the UK for over fifteen years, we now have no right to vote anywhere. I would feel like a citizen of nowhere if it weren’t for the love and support we have had from our French friends in the village.

President Macron has also publicly shown his support for the British living in France with his message assuring us we have a place here.

“À tous les Britanniques qui vivent en France depuis tant d'années : vous êtes en France chez vous, aujourd'hui et demain.”

You can read his full statement in English here and also the touching words of Alain Rousset, President of the Region Council of Nouvelle-Aquitaine here.

The Maire joins us for an apero of solidarity

The Maire in our village, who I have had the privilege to work alongside as a councillor for the last six years, spoke of his regret that I can no longer be included in the list for re-election this March, and many others in the village have told me they feel the same way.

“Jacqui, une nouvelle fois, tu avais toute ta place sur une liste constituée en vue de l’élection de mars prochain. Je regrette sincèrement que ton nom risqué de ne pays y figurer. Si j’en avais le pouvoir, je te ferais conseillère municipal d’honneur de Loubillé !”

We have entered a period of transition, from now until the 31^st December, a mere 333 days, during which, with the exception of voting rights nothing much will change. I can only hope that clarity for our position after that will be made clear sooner rather than later. In much the same way that the UK government have focussed solely on the wishes of those who voted to leave the EU in the last three and half years, they are currently only concerned with brokering a trade deal with the EU in terms of goods. The current Withdrawal Agreement doesn’t cover the provision of services across borders, which is the crux of our business and our income, so for us the uncertainty of the full effects of Brexit is still as big an issue as it was at the referendum in 2016.

On Friday night we marked the official leaving of the UK from the EU in our own way, surrounded by friends and a community that is there for each other. We dined on fish and chips, then crooned our way through lyrics that included ‘The Winner Takes It All’, ‘Never Gonna Give EU Up’ and ‘Why, Why, Why, Delilah’, all washed down with copious amounts of French wine. As midnight approached, we played Europe’s ‘The Final Countdown’, followed by a candlelit minute’s silence, before a rousing rendition of ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and Vera Lynn’s ‘We’ll Meet Again’. It was quite an emotional moment for us all.

The dates this weekend might well be significant, but I for one have never felt so insignificant. Heartbroken doesn’t come close.

Victory in Europe 2017

Ed holding the flag at the village memorial service 8th May 2017

Every year on the 8^th May a small ceremony is held in our village to commemorate Victory in Europe Day; a public holiday in France.

Flowers laid at a grave in the village cemetery

This year, just before the official ceremony at the memorial a moment of silent reflection was observed at a simple grave in the village cemetery; the resting place of Fernand Prevost, aged 18, who was shot dead by the SS troops just outside the village in July 1944.

Now we have sadly lost our old soldiers, the holding of the flag has been passed on to the younger generation and Ed did us proud once more. I think he is hoping that photos like the one above will help him with his French nationalisation request in a few years.

The vin d'honneur

As usual, after the ceremony we gathered in the Salle des Fêtes for a vin d’honneur (wine of honour) and aperitifs. It seemed only a few hours since we had been drinking aperitifs with some of the villagers, which if I’m honest it was, in celebration of another victory for Europe, the defeat of Marine Le Pen.

Bureau de vote

I had helped man the bureau de vote on Sunday afternoon, where strict controls and counts are kept on who arrives to vote. I checked their voting cards and date stamped them, initialled a register and sent them off to the voting cubicle. Upon their return I got to open the slot in the ballot box and then we all cried out “A Voté” (voted) as the envelope slipped in. My colleague then requested their signature on another copy of the register and handed their cards back. Despite the seriousness of the event, all this was done with the usual kisses, handshakes and conversation that is normal in a French village and made me feel included even if I had no right to vote.

Awaiting the national results

Our village had a turnout of 190 voters and Macron won with 56% of votes, slightly less than the national average and it was a very close count at one point. With the hope other towns and villages would follow our trend I began to relax a little about our future for the first time in a few weeks. Once the official voting documents had been deposited at the local Gendarmarie, the aperos were served and we all gathered around to await the eight o’clock announcement on French TV as to who was likely to be our president. An hour of light hearted political banter followed before we all made our way home, relieved and happy.

It certainly has been an action-packed couple of days in our quiet village.

You might also like to read my previous VE Day posts from 2013 (here) and 2016 (here).

My obituary, the end of an era

This short message that will appear in the next edition of our village magazine, something I have helped to produce for over ten years, is probably the closest I will ever get to reading my own obituary:

“We would simply like to say publicly to Jacqui Brown, whose deep involvement in the village council, and more generally in our community, is known by us all, our regret that she will not be able to stand for election in 2020 (if she wished).”

This makes me sad. The French have been very proactive in encouraging communities with English immigrants to have a voice by electing someone to stand on their local council. They want us to do our bit, get involved, have our say, help out in our French community, but also to have a representative on hand to help out our fellow immigrants. I have been called down to the Mairie many times since the 2014 elections to help someone newer to the village who has a problem and may not have the language skills to understand what to do now.

The EU referendum vote in the UK will not mean that my village will chuck me out or stop me from volunteering or helping in the local community, but it will take away my voice. Immigrants are often criticised for arriving and not integrating in their new communities. My right to integrate as I am doing now, as a village councillor, is in jeopardy and once the UK has exited the EU, will be lost.

Democracy exists to enable change to happen and that must be viewed as a good thing. At present no one can be certain what these changes will mean for the future of the UK or Europe and I only hope that positive things emerge. The only certain is that things will not remain the same and my daily rights to live my life as I am doing now will be effected.

There will be challenging and worrying times ahead, but whatever happens and wherever I end up living, I know that this quirky little village in the middle of rural France has felt more like home to me than anywhere else I have ever lived.

A vote

Postal vote papers

A vote is your formal expression of opinion or choice. The same letters written with an added French accent become a voté, which means ‘voted’ and is called out each time a vote is cast at a bureau de vote in France.

Yesterday the UK held it’s general election and although this may seem like an odd topic for a French blog stick with me, it has a decidedly French twist.

As a European in France, rather than a French national, I can vote (and was voted for) in the local level elections and can cast my vote in the European elections, but my voice is a silent one in the departmental and national elections in France, as I have no right to vote. I’m not really into politics, but this annoys me, as I’m far more interested in the day-to-day decisions affecting daily life and taxes in France than I am in the UK, having left there over ten years ago. Despite this desertion I was still entitled to vote in the UK general election yesterday by setting up a postal vote, which I did. Like the elections in France I was presented with a list of names on the voting paper, however, unlike in France where you vote in an entire list of candidates (see here), in the UK I had to choose just one name by placing an X in the box. The list contained all the usual suspects, but tucked in at the bottom was The Roman Party.AVE, which wasn’t one I remembered from my years living in Reading. Following a bit of Internet research it seems I’m not the only foreigner dipping their finger into local politics, but some obviously have more ambition than I do. According to Wikipedia, The Roman Party was founded by a Frenchman from Bordeaux, who now lives and works as a bus driver in Reading and as an admirer of the ancient Romans, he credits “when in Rome, do as the Romans” as the basis of his policy, which sounds quite sensible to me. The party has been running since the 2009 European elections, although with little success.

I thought it quite amusing that the British born French village councillor, who hasn’t lived in the UK for over ten years and who can’t vote for the President of France, could have voted for the Frenchman living and working in Reading and standing in the UK general elections.

Vive la démocratie!