Bloody French

Just as we’re planning a trip to France the French decide to get stroppy.

I don’t really know why the French have a reputation for being awkward.  I’m pretty sure none of you remember the lorries full of lambs that were set alight.  You won’t recall baggage handler disputes or air traffic controllers going on strike.  Nobody would recognise a French lorry driver protest.  French train drivers striking, surely not…

Of course I jest.  The French are a feisty bunch and that’s something I like about them.  They do love a protest, and so, frankly, do I. 

I’ve protested and I’ve marched.  I even made it onto the local telly while I was at school and we decided that to protest about our school bus passes being taken away we’d walk to school along the main road and hold up the traffic.  I remember being quite impressed by the queue that built up behind us.  We never did get our bus passes back.

I remember getting on a coach in Torquay to protest outside the county offices in Exeter.  I was a hardcore member of the National Union of Students who fancied a day out of lectures.  I think I was also outraged that budget cuts meant a course in pottery was going to be axed.

Anyway the French appear to be unhappy that the retirement age is being increased to 62.  HELLO!!!  Don’t you realise we’re recovering from economic meltdown?  And, more importantly, if, as a result of your daft protests, petrol stations run out of fuel we won’t be able to return to the UK from our holiday, and we won’t be able to get back to work….

You know, protests might just be a good thing.  I’ve always loved the French.