Writers Abroad Magazine Issue 2 March 2015 | Page 13

WRITERS ABROAD MAGAZINE

Why Living in France is Like a Marriage
An Article by Vanessa Couchman
Dr Johnson once described second marriage as, “The triumph of hope over
experience.” Moving to France after falling out of love with England could be described
in similar terms.

Courtship
First, there’s courtship. You’ve found the house — it was basking in the late spring
sunshine with the cuckoos calling and the bright green oak leaves rustling in the
breeze. Of course, it was love at first sight. Now comes the delicious anticipation of
sunlit days and balmy evenings, spiced with the frisson of yet unknown but legitimate
pleasures.

Honeymoon
Then there’s the honeymoon period. How long this lasts depends on your particular
disposition. But, as far as France is concerned, everything is new and wonderful, to
be savoured with voluptuous enjoyment. There are so many things about rural France
that you never experienced in rural England: the lack of traffic jams; the restaurants
where you can eat a five-course meal for 12 euros and still have change for Le Figaro;
the quaint but engaging neighbours; the daily buying of bread; the fêtes; and the wine
bought at the local cave for a few euros.

Disenchantment
Then disillusionment seeps in, like a draught through a badly-fitted window. Why didn’t
anyone tell you how cold it can be in winter and how much you would have to spend
on heating? Why do you have to produce your grandmother’s birth certificate to effect
the simplest of administrative tasks? Why don’t the shops open between 12 and 2
o’clock? Why don’t the artisans turn up when they say they will, or even supply an
estimate for the work? Why is the language so difficult? Why do the French always
wait till everyone has arrived before serving the drinks? Why is it so different from
England, when the two countries are only 30 miles apart?
It’s even more disappointing, though, that you can now get Marmite and Bisto in the
supermarket. Surely, that’s not what we came for. But what did we come for?
Doubt now sets in with a vengeance. It’s at this point that thoughts turn to divorce, to
scuttling back to Blighty, to our first love, to what we were brought up to comprehend,
even if we don’t like it.

Reconciliation
But then you start to realise that you have become deeply attached to this difficult
companion. So, onto the final phase — reconciliation. Even if aspects of French life
and the closed book that is the French psyche are bewildering, would it be any better
back in England? Would we be happier sitting in traffic jams on the M25 or the M6?
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