Forget the football (oh, that’s right we already have…) us Brits have more than just poor footie results to defend. And with a foreign manager coming under fire, I’m reminded of my time flying the flag for my country abroad…
Coming back to uni after a year sampling the delights of carefree living teaching English to the unsuspected in France I found myself in an unusual position. As a bona fide Brit in Le Mans I quickly became sole representative and defendant of our great and mighty land. Until living and working abroad for a year I had never been so patriotic.
Attacks came in thick and fast (the usual suspects, poor weather, food, behaviour on a night out…) but I could not be beaten. England is indeed a fantastic country I proclaimed. Ok, the weather is not great but you get used to it. Venture out anywhere in England on a Saturday night and you will see individuals in nothing more than a thin T Shirt despite the drizzle, northerly wind and temperatures bordering on freezing, (although that may have more to do with the fact we’d rather freeze than pay the £1.50 for the cloakroom). The food is fantastic! No where else on earth can you find a proper Sunday roast, decent fish and chips or real orange squash. And as for our behaviour on a night out, let me assure you we are not the only ones to drink too much, sing loudly in the street, dress up in all our most hideous clothes at once and return home with a road sign under our arms.
Despite all this, and following determined efforts to the contrary my patriotism is currently suffering a temporary crisis. After a year of smiling politely and nodding to my French peers as they good naturedly questioned aspects of our daily life (whilst inwardly adamant that I was in fact right), I am now beginning to see they may have had a point. Yes, the weather is awful. So bad in fact that we forget what it’s like to see the sun and the whole country goes into a mad state of panic when the temperature gets above 25 degrees Celsius and it hasn’t rained for three days. Food, (apart from the above named items which remain sacred) is admittedly not that fantastic. Ask anyone to name their favourite dish and it will, nine times out of ten, be something from Italy, India or…France. And our night time shenanigans. While it’s true the French love to have a good time just as much as the rest of us they manage to do it whilst maintaining their dignity, and antics involving misplaced wheelie bins, public displays of nakedness and customary vomiting are notably absent.
Call me weak, call me a traitor. I can only say I did my best. However, there is one thing I will never back down on. While the French may claim the upper hand on weather, food and dignified nightly behaviour, it is us Brits and us Brits only who know how to form a proper queue!
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