11. froideur...quelle froideur?

There seems to be a commonly held view that the French are snooty, cold and unhelpful. It's a view that seems to have trickled into my subconscious from various sources, either written, broadcast or social (including French ones) and something I was steeling myself for. This is a cliche that I am happy to dispel, not in a 'throwing flowers in a field in a romantic haze and la-la-la-ing' as a newly converted francophile, but in a sober 'ah, weren't they lovely' quotidian, kinda way.

I love the response French people give if you tell them this by saying 'oh, that's Paris!', which is probably true. My theory is that the denser the population, the angrier and bad tempered the people, which applies to most big cities. In the countryside where time is elastic, people have a much more approachable demeanour.

Having lived in London for over 25 years now, I realise I have been cloaked for a long time in that mind set of 'head down, don't make eye contact, push on through and if people talk to you rush by because they're probably insane'. It's time to let my guard down and enjoy this new found connection with my fellow man/woman/child.

On the day we bought the house a friend of mine called me. He and his boyfriend had been living in France for a few years now and he gave me some advice. 'One thing you have to remember now that you are moving here is that people are nice, and for no other reason than that. Give someone a seedling and before you know it they'll give you a tree and on it goes. Before you know it they've donated their house and their daughters hand in marriage. Just enjoy it! There are no suspicious underlying motives. It's just not London.' Ok, a slight exaggeration but you get the gist.

Now, as most of my friends will confirm, I do possess a healthy dose of cynicism, shaken with a dash of nihilism and stirred with a the steely reserve of a Londoner, but I am pleased to say that my guard is melting, and it's a welcome thaw. I am relishing the thought of giving away homemade jams and chutneys to neighbours, or swapping eggs for a decent tartiflette recipe in my gingham pinny. For the first time we will be able to actually have people round, sit at a table and have dinner. Our flat at the moment prohibits this. I am also finding a renewed interest in cooking again, something I used to do when I first arrived in London and people had dinner parties.

Maybe my spectacles are rose tinted, but anything that gives you back faith in your fellow man has to be embraced. And I'd like to thank all those people who have so far shown us small butterfly wing kindnesses which in fact transform themselves into great bear hugs of happiness in our day. The obvious lesson to be learnt is to pass it on.