You might think that living 500 miles from the UK, deep in the heart of the socialist Republic of France, the Queen’s 60th anniversary celebrations would pass us by unnoticed…not at all!
Across the land, in secret gatherings behind high hedges the bunting has been raised, the Union Jacks have been flying and large screen televisions have been broadcasting the highlights!
I don’t know that anyone went so far as closing the roads to have a street party, most people around here don’t live on streets so much as country roads between two villages which makes it impractical.
The local tractor driving population might not have understood if they were told to turn back by Mrs B as she waved a Union Jack at them and sang God Save the Queen at the top of her voice.
But no matter, a garden party is just as authentic and there is less chance of ending up as part of a hay bale.
We might have missed the chance to see a zillion boats sailing along the Thames or Robbie Williams singing for the Queen – but expats across the land have been eating sausage rolls and raising their glasses of Saint Emilion to Queen and country.
And we were in the sunshine.
We were fortunate enough to be able to gatecrash not just one but two jubilee parties (Mrs B was invited and I crept in hidden behind her flag). A great way to start the summer – tired, hungover, and as stuffed as a Christmas turkey – without having to lift a finger ourselves. Excellent, just wish I had remembered to take a picture of the jubilee cake for you!
Unfortunately we don’t get the double bank holiday afterwards, but as anyone not living here will tell you, it’s just one big holiday anyway for us expats, so what difference does a bank holiday make?
Anyway if HRH the Queen is reading this on her ipad during a break in the concert – congratulations Ma’am, good luck with the next 60 years, we’ve got the champagne on ice ready.