From Luxembourg to Spain: Saving Private Belongings

You have 6 weeks until your kids need to go to school somewhere else in Europe. You have a house full of effects from your life. You have kids that don’t know the meaning of the phrase “tidy up”, and you need to make sure you can carry on your professional activities when you get to wherever it is you’re going. What is your first emotion? If it is sheer panic, you are probably right. But it’s the second emotion that will count, and that is focus. Focus on what you need to do, when you need to do it, and how you can get it done. Our list was daunting, the time frame virtually impossible, but it had to be done if we were to make sure our three children were to carry on their education.

It went something like this:

·       Call the real estate branch of our bank and request to put our house up for sale

·       Close down our Luxembourg office

·       Make a list of countries and cities we would be interested in moving to

·       Check out their suitability: house prices, schools and quality of life

·       Single out some schools and apartments, and start calling round (not just emailing and waiting for a reply)

·       Arrange a couple of days to go to your chosen destination in order to tap on a few doors, because estate agents don’t like to be accessible, unless they are confronted with you in person

·       Order a large container to throw out everything we don’t want to take with us: furniture, fittings, flooring, general waste, etc.

·       Gather all the other waste from the house, sort it, and throw it out: electric, paper/carton, glass, dangerous materials, etc.

·       Put all the utility services on alert that we’re going to close them off

·       Sign out of the local commune

·       Get the car serviced

·       Start gathering things we are going to need, such as different sized house-move boxes, tape, markers, bin bags, etc.

·       Begin washing all our dirty clothes and then do systematic washes of used ones, so that we can pack them easily when we need to.

·       Look for a person to keep an eye on our house until we can return to get more stuff: feed the cat, water the plants, put out the remaining rubbish on the right days

·       Start looking for a storage place or garage to get our stuff delivered to once the house is sold

·       Plan our route to our destination including booking stopovers – that would mean setting a deadline to get it all done

And start doing all this as soon as we can – no thinking “I’ll take a few more days off and then get down to it”, because we risk being assaulted by all manner of extra tasks we never thought of. Take this road, and you will find yourself wallowing in a massive pile-up of uncompleted items. Also, don’t do one and then another – juggle five or six of them all at the same time, prioritising one above the other.

We had to do all this while in the relatively close background, three screaming, self-obsessed kids on their summer holidays kept picking fights with each other, sabotaging our sorting piles, and asking us for juice, food, a push on the swing, or to fix something they'd messed up.

Anyway, first task: deciding where to go and taking steps to organise our successful installation there. As well as plenty of housing and affordable living, the number one priority above all else was finding a place with more affordable international schools than where we were currently living. I looked at various countries on the International Schools Database: Denmark had very few options, although it was cheap. France was OK, but we were a little wary of all the current social and economic problems there, plus their inclusive schooling was also not very developed. Czechia was high on the list, but its international schools were almost as expensive as Eton or Harrow – why cater to a lot of ordinary folk, when you can put the prices up and have smaller classes with just sons and daughters of bandits and oil magnates? Italy was out of the question – we went there in April to check it out and I think the hype is really exaggerated. Sweden would be tricky to carry on working as entrepreneurs. In Ireland, we could just put them in state schools and the system would take care of it, but when I saw the house prices (and the weather forecast), I got cold feet. Which is, incidentally, also what I would get if I went paddling in the Irish Sea at any time of year.

It seemed that Spain was turning out to be a serious contender. Or rather, the only contender. I checked out some cities and found many had more than enough facilities, and the house prices in many areas were quite acceptable. There were plenty of cities with international schools and many had the right facilities.

But where?

Barcelona would be great, but it has a serious crime problem and it’s full of tourists. Madrid is a lovely city but it’s a cauldron in summer. Malaga would be a wonderful place, but the driving habits there are frightening – I think it’s where even Grand Theft Auto refused to go. Bilbao, San Sebastian, Zaragoza, Granada, Cordoba, all utterly marvellous places, but possibly a little too small for what we need.

Hold on… what about Valencia?

You know sometimes when you’re looking for something and you look everywhere else except *right there* because that’s where it’s much too visible? It’s right under your nose, and that’s why you can’t see it. Like when you’re in the kitchen and you’re looking for the knife you were just using. You look around it, over it, even through it, even though it's so visible and so evidently close that you would probably put your hand straight on it if you were blindfold. Well that was Valencia: I don’t quite know how we kept on missing it on the map, quite frankly.

Qualities:

1.       A host of international schools all vying for your business, keeping the prices reasonable and the competition hot.

2.       Located at the very top of the Forbes Magazine Best City To Live In Index, ranked first in quality of life and third in ease of settling in by Internations, it has everything Barcelona has but without being Barcelona: it’s between the sea and the mountains, it has excellent food, splendid architecture, a superb social life, an impressive number of cultural events, and such glorious weather almost all year round.

3.       What it has that Barcelona doesn’t is also worth mentioning: low crime, friendly people, competent governance, and a likeable football team come to mind, but I’m sure there are others.

I had that instinctive feeling that I didn’t need to search any more. This was our next project, and hopefully the last one: we were going south – quite a long way south.

It was vital, therefore, that I went there to check it out, visit a few important schools and estate agents, and see which areas of the city would be good to live in. I booked a flight from Luxembourg via Zurich, and found a cheap room in a student residence for a few days. We had a Zoom call with one school, and they invited me to visit them when I arrived, although I felt they weren’t so keen on us. I resolved to go there anyhow, just to see the potential.

The impressive grounds were located quite far outside the city centre, in a plush neighbourhood surrounded by villas and parks. When I arrived, there was a summer English camp going on and the place was full of Spanish kids enjoying the utterly amazing facilities. But it was more like a sports academy than a school – there were copious sports facilities catering to basketball, football, tennis, golf, track & field. Inside there were classrooms with every piece of technology you could ever need – every room looked like as if the Starship Enterprise had been a children’s space ship. The immaculate marble-and-glass corridors led to different other facilities, such as a fully equipped air-conditioned theatre with seating for well over a hundred, a canteen the size of Gatwick Airport’s arrivals area, tree-festooned walkways, and a rather large trophy room displaying the school’s impressive sporting and academic achievements over the years.

The mouth-watering services and programme on offer, plus the facilities, location and fee structure made me realise that maybe back in Luxembourg we were being swindled. No, hold on, not swindled, robbed. Pickpocketed. Mugged. Cheated. Fleeced. Ripped off. Defrauded. Conned. Hustled. Deceived. Hoodwinked. Shafted. Taken for idiots. Imagine paying a vast amount of money to a school to turn your child into a fully-functioning citizen, only for them to tell you they’re not prepared to let her repeat the year and grant you the time to put in place the appropriate professional help. What kind of crapulous business model are you running when you ask thousands of euro for your rather limited and unexciting services, and you act like you are the client? What school – remember that, school – wants all of the children in its care to conform to the system rather than to adapt the school to the individual? The visit in Valencia had raised a whole new level of questions that my brain was finding hard to answer. All I could think about was that we had not yet wasted our children’s education, and it was vital that we put everything in place by September. It was the second week of July.

At the end of the rather hasty visit, the head teacher said something that made me feel we needed to look elsewhere: “we can take Livia for a week and see how she gets on.” That was never going to work for me, but one of the advantages of Valencia is that it has more international schools than the entire Grande Région, which covers 5 regions in 4 countries. So I aimed my intentions towards a lovely British school in another suburb that had similar facilities and a powerful reputation. I called them up, they immediately arranged a Zoom call for a few days later, we told the head about our situation, and she sent us the enrolment forms.

To say that this woman is a mere head teacher is doing her a disservice. She is a ninja businesswoman and astute service provider. Every email answered, even if only a few words, all procedures explained, and all steps towards onboarding in September laid out in front of us. We were in.

Next, we needed a place to live.

Another thing I did while I was in Valencia was go to some estate agents. I had the impression there were going to be some heavier obstacles in this area, especially as Valencia is quite a popular place to move to. I visited a few of them, dropped my details and what I was looking for, and never heard anything again. Except from one; and yes, another ninja businesswoman. See the previous article for details on how we procured our beachfront apartment.

I also got reacquainted with the Spanish character and way of life. I should elaborate at this point – back in the twentieth century, my family had a strong connection to Spain. We had relatives living in three parts of the country, and my grandparents had a holiday home in the mountains near Malaga. They were special times – I loved the Spanish work ethic, the positive attitude, wicked sense of humour, strong sense of community, laid-back outlook, and ability to distinguish between fun and duty. And I had a proper revisit to these feelings as soon as I landed.

It was a bizarre, disorienting feeling, though, because I had been out of this environment for well over a couple of decades. But it all felt so very familiar, so very comforting, and so indispensable at that point. If I was going to leave behind my house that I had poured 15 years of toil into, I wasn’t going to take a backwards step. And here, in this blisteringly hot climate, with the nightly wind set to hair dryer status and the daytime temperatures reaching a point where even the devils of hell had gone back downstairs to cool off, I had my epiphany. I was, weirdly, going back to my original second home.

But there was a daunting task awaiting us before we got there: there was a house full of our junk that needed emptying, we needed to throw out a lot of stuff that we hadn’t used or seen for years, deal with some crap left over from the previous owners, and find a solution for a grumpy, deaf, twenty-year-old cat called Baldrick. Oh yes, and I needed to plan our route to Spain, dates and places to stay on the way.

I arranged for a container to be delivered to the driveway, and we started to divide all the junk that couldn't go in there into categories to take to the dump, a 35-minute drive away at the other end of Trier. I never realised how much utter rubbish the average household could accumulate over time. It is amazing. I did several runs to the dump, one of them just with electric bits and pieces: old blenders, a few outdated printers, a ton of battery-operated gadgets, obsolete chargers, lamps, broken plugs, sections of the Internet, old modems, clocks, and even a battery-operated oil painting. Don’t ask me what that’s all about, I have no idea, but it was a thing left in the bowels of the house by a previous occupier. Kirsten said she supposed it played a tune. Nobody buys that kind of trash, unless it’s a gift from someone who hates you!

The days went by, July finished and August kicked in. We had boxes and boxes full of our stuff, packed high and stashed in the flat below. I went up and down the steps carrying so much of it, I lost 4 kilos in just 3 weeks. Our gardener, Benek, had also helped to get the place in order, and without him I don’t know what we would have done.

The children were on summer holiday, and they were constantly asking us when we were going on holiday. I felt bad because we had so much to do and so little time, but yes, we all deserved a holiday. We were supposed to start our rental period on 1 September, so I decided that we should finish up on 21 August and the next day make our way southwards. I would find us a good seaside holiday home near Valencia for the week before we needed to move in, and arrange a couple of places to stay on the way that would count as a holiday.

One of the best ways to experience Spain is to go to a place where the Spanish go on holiday. The picturesque town of Peñíscola, about an hour and a half’s drive north of Valencia, is one of those places. It’s a quiet, unassuming resort, but it’s a beauty. Two enormous rocky promontories, one with the old city on it, a small harbour, and some beaches in-between that are protected from the main sea.

I found a delightful house in a typical urbanisation up some very windy roads with its own garage and terrace overlooking the sea – we would stay there for our final week from 25 August to 1 September. Now I could fill in the gaps to get there. I love planning holiday itineraries, and my first and most important tip is planning backwards is so much easier. Book your final destination first, it’s really then just a matter of filling in the gaps.

I used Google Maps to search for a good place in France to stay for a couple of nights, quite a long way south. I decided we should leave early on 22 August, a Tuesday, and get as far as possible towards our end point. Ambitious, but doable. I landed on Camping et Chambres d'hôtes du Moulin d'Onclaire, near the delightful town of Privas in the Ardèche. It had a swimming pool, and we could stay in a pavilion tent under some trees next to a river. I thought the second leg should be less ambitious so we could enjoy the Ardèche more and have a shorter drive. I found a delightful little bed and breakfast in the foothills of the Pyrenees about an hour from the Spanish border called Maury Cat Studio 66, where we would stay one night before our week in Peñíscola.

It was all set, but time was pressing. I would tell you what the months of July and August were like: imagine someone gets a fire hose and sprays you for days on end. Not with water, but with an endless number of tasks. You need to do some more packing, but you also need to collect rubbish, but you need to sweep the toys up that the kids spread all over the house, but you need to go shopping for food, but you need to put some washing on, but you need to clear up the terrace, but you need to go to the council to sign out of the community, but you need to arrange some meetings with a few people to say goodbye, but you need to buy more boxes, but you need to occupy the children before they turn the place into a set from Lord Of The Flies, but you need to cook dinner, but you need to call the agent in Spain for an update, but you need to put all these things in some kind of order of urgency so that you don’t have to choose one of two impossible options later.

You get the idea.

Anyhow, by way of a miracle, we managed to fit everyone in the car on the morning of the 22^nd of August. I think it was just getting to the point where we said “we’ve done enough, we can’t look at it any longer, let’s just go.” So we did, with the aim of returning the following month for a few days to put the rest in order. Good intentions, good intentions…

We unceremoniously sped off towards our new life without looking back. From what I remember, we stopped at a few places as we moved southwards, and each time, we noticed an increase in the intensity of the heat. It was really telling that by the time we reached Lyon, we were starting to flinch each time we stepped out into the sun.

Arriving at the first destination at about 7, we immediately went to the local town, Privas. Having parked the car, we headed into the blazing evening light to enjoy what was left of the day, sweat a little, and allow the children to stretch their legs. There would be no set bedtime that night, not now we were finally able to let go of many of the obligations. Saying that, I think it still took six weeks for us to fully expunge the stress and tension of the summer: for a long time, we were still quite edgy and tense, always responding to every noise or movement, and finding certain simple tasks too heavy to complete, or even start.

The day after, we spent the day at the pool just generally trying to detoxify. However, another rather silly annoyance crept up on us: the brakes of the car were worn and scraping metal on metal. I was in no mood to drive all the way to Valencia with dodgy brakes, not now we were south of Lyon, the kind of dividing line between northern and southern driving habits (with a few southern exclaves, such as Paris and Brussels – and for those who know, Esch-Sur-Alzette too…).

So I drove to a number of garages in the hope someone would be able to change them as quickly as possible. In the French countryside. In August. In a heatwave. A woman at the only garage that said it could fix the situation told me they would order the part and it would be there the following day, when we had to head south. It was the only possibility, so I took it. It was a garage about 10 kilometres from our campsite, so the assistant, a boy of about 19, was given the task of driving me back. The car was a tiny Renault Clio from about the late nineties and I had to heave my legs in to be able to close the door.

That evening, we ate at the camp site’s restaurant, a lovely courtyard terrace next to the swimming pool. There was to be a concert afterwards, and we were encouraged to stay.

There is something about the French and their stomachs that I will never understand. When the French go on holiday, so do their taste buds... and their principles. Between September and June, the French will look down upon the Americans and the British, the Dutch and the Germans, even the Danes, and pour scorn upon their eating habits, always dwelling on how superior their food is (despite there being a lot of cross-over), and yet when you go to any French holiday resort, the only thing they’ll serve is brown or orange-coloured fried food, often straight out of the freezer. There’ll be nuggets, breaded chicken, croquettes, fish sticks, meat balls, these thin, quick-cook fries that crisp up if you leave them in for a minute longer, and they’ll put them all in the deep fat fryer. There will always be loads of ketchup, an almost blasphemous ritual that the French seem keen on keeping alive as soon as July and August roll round. I remember my mother refused ketchup in the house, but in France, this is the summer staple. And they’ll charge you as much for this fattening brown pile of factory-made offal and plant-based leftovers as your local restaurant back home would for a decent salad, followed by an entrecôte, vegetables and potatoes roasted in garlic and rosemary, plus dessert and a glass of decent red wine. Not to forget a proper coffee, not the powdered crap they lazily make themselves as soon as the calendar reaches July. The French will forever bang on about their “marvellous cuisine”, even trying to bully UNESCO into giving it World Heritage status, yet they themselves are close to the top of the world rankings for fast food consumption. Go figure.

Anyway… rant over, back to the point. The evening passed well enough, and we had a lot of fun with everyone else at the concert/party. The performers, a man with an electric guitar and a digital mixer, and a woman vocalist, both local, would regale us with some proper rock songs, many in English. This, despite them not speaking a word of the language. They played really well and their hilarious pronunciation of the English lyrics was just the tonic I needed to cheer me up. I loved Suite Homme à la Bama by Aerosmith, Wok Ziss Ouais by Aerosmith, Ail Oué Tou'elle by AC/DC, Aneuze Houane Bail Tzeu Deust by Queen, Aille L’oeuf Roquenrol by Joan Jett, and Chize Gotze Louque by Roxette. Despite that, they were a lovely pair, and they really knew how to get us all dancing. I’d have hired them if I lived locally.

In the morning, I called the garage to see when I should come and get the car. They said the part would be in but they weren’t sure when. The prodigiously long, unnecessary rural French lunchtime came and went, no car. By 3pm, I was crawling up the walls. We should have been gone by then – our hosts for that evening were preparing dinner for us, and it was 360 kilometres away. Another intolerable hour ticked on, no call. The children were having a thoroughly great time all day at the pool, so the fact that Daddy was having an internal meltdown was immaterial.

Finally, at about half past four, the garage called to say the car was ready, and the boy would pick me up in twenty minutes. I told Kirsten to have all our belongings waiting outside the tent and went there expecting to pay, pick up my car keys and get the hell out of there. Nope. The client before me had a list of demands and gave an explanation each time: “The front left tyre might need some air – I was driving back from Carrefour on Tuesday – or was it Monday? Oh no, it wasn’t Carrefour, it was Leclerc, and there was one of those potholes that you can’t avoid. The local council should be ashamed. Anyway, I didn’t see it until too late so I was going too fast. Must have been about 40. Could have been faster though. Anyway, it hit the pothole and my coffee went all over the dashboard, I dropped my cigarette on the floor, and the suspension took quite a hit.”

Oh please STFU, I have a bunch of kids thinking Daddy’s hidden the car somewhere and I have to be in the Pyrenees by 8. I interrupted the conversation after a while and the chatty guy said “oh, I didn’t see you there!” I wanted to say, “yeah, no surprise there… you’re so self-absorbed, no wonder you hit a massive pothole. Why don’t you move your gaze away from the end of your own nose, you boring old troll, and take a wider look around you!” But instead I said “sorry for interrupting this pleasant little conversation, but I do have quite a pressing need for my car.” Regretfully, I held in my utter rage, because despite firstly the little devil on my left shoulder telling me to give any idiots and time wasters a good verbal slapping, and secondly the lack of an angel on my right shoulder keeping me virtuous, there is a terrifying Kirsten-shaped leviathan at home waiting to murder me for not having a placatory, well-meaning, non-confrontational attitude, even among people who really need to be told they're the main problem in their friends' and family's lives.

It’s a weird, paradoxical, almost hypocritical situation: she has a distaste to point out other people’s idiocies or despicable attitudes, so as not to cause a diplomatic incident, or worse, to offend the bastard, yet I might get a full half-hour sermon on putting too much salt in the pasta water. Believe me, the feeling of self-loathing for not telling a stranger he’s cycling in the middle of the road by hooting my horn loudly right behind him is better than the Full Kirsten Lecture awaiting me if I did do it. But sometimes temptation does win, and I will take the verbal fallout heading my way.

We hit the road at twelve minutes after five. I sent a message to the hosts with our excuses but that we were definitely on the way, and they said not to worry, they would wait. Having committed a few minor traffic infractions, we got there at two minutes after nine, and it was truly worth the stress – from the front, it looked like an unassuming row house on a very steep hill with some very dodgy surfaces, but the view on the other side was simply breathtaking. You walked through a huge room containing a proper, professional kitchen, passing tasteful but engaging décor, into the adjoining entertainment room containing an immense dining table, and a circular sofa for properly cosy moments (I’m quite sure that sofa could tell a few stories).

Our hosts were a couple in their fifties with the attitude and outlook of people half their age. They were in the midst of preparing our dinner when we arrived, so we were escorted to our room. We left through the back door, where there was a terrace overlooking the slope, and up a metallic spiral staircase to a huge wooden platform. Our room was through some hermetically-sealed sliding doors. It was so perfectly laid out in a nautical style and even had a mini cinema at the back. The children’s room was off to the side and had enough playful accessories to keep them entertained, but it was the terrace that was the star. It was dark, the moon was coming up, and we could make out the mountains in the back, the valley below, and the trees straddling the river. I was impatient to see what it looked like in the morning…

Dinner was served – a truly impressive salad to start with, which could have filled me up on its own. But then came a dish of local sausages, potatoes and summer vegetables. Believe me, about five years ago, I would have eaten the lot. But then, I was 30 kilos heavier and had a penchant for assuring an empty plate.

Dessert was equally delicious, and we were thoroughly impressed with the entire experience. We moved to the terrace, where it had got a lot cooler, for cigars and a nightcap, then we went off to sleep. Our quarters, up the metallic spiral staircase, were not to everyone’s liking… Dainoris needed his hand held and Milda was a little sceptical to start with, but in the light of the morning, I was sure the situation would be different.

And yes, it was.

I woke up with the anticipation of a child on birthday morning, and went over to open the sliding doors and the shutters. I lost the ability to breathe for a few seconds – the vertiginous rocky mountains, the fertile valley, the length of the view along the river – it was all so immense, so wild, so raucous in a silent kind of way. I could happily have just decided to move in there and then, but there were three kids to take to a holiday home in Peñíscola, and then there was the little matter of our new life in Valencia.

After a proper breakfast, we thanked our remarkable hosts and once more got back in the car. An hour passed and we crossed the border into Spain. The borders between countries in the EU are becoming more and more difficult to discern, and the difference in my lifetime of crossing into Spain in the 1980s compared to now couldn’t be more stark. Back then, we had to pull up at a huge roadside installation and show our papers to some very strict-looking geezers in odd hats and uniforms who used to make a habit of confiscating cameras, even if they had remained in your bag the whole time. How on earth they could suffer the heat while wearing a buttoned-up shirt and blazer was as baffling as the procedure they put us through. On this journey, we hurtled over the frontier without even thinking about it… it wasn’t until I saw an advert for a restaurant serving tapas that I realised we had left France. The European Union has a lot of detractors – but it has made our ability to move around so much easier. We would never have been able to do what we did back then: just pick everything up and dump it 1500 kilometres further south without even needing to show our passports.

We drove some more through the flourishing landscapes of Catalunya, deciding to pull off the motorway near Lloret de Mar, where there were surely some places to stop for lunch. We found a roadside restaurant that had ample parking and I put our long-suffering car under some trees.

After what was a perfect “Welcome to Spain” lunch, we jumped in the car and headed to Peñíscola, still quite a long drive away, passing exit signs for some of the country’s most well-known tourist destinations: Palamos, Tossa de Mar, Calella, Blanes, Sitges, Salou, not forgetting Barcelona, then crossing the Ebro valley before reaching Peñíscola itself. The children were veering between quietly interested in the scenery outside, to boisterous and annoying. So it was a particular comfort when we arrived in the town. I just had to get the keys from the tourist bureau on the other side of the town, and we’d be all set for our well-deserved holiday.

The town itself is a bright, friendly and laid-back place with a mix of restaurants and bars, tourist tat shops, and mid-range clothes boutiques. There are two main beach fronts on each side of a huge promontory containing the old town, with its castle on the top, seeming to rise out of the land like a massive organ in a theatre. So the first thing we did when we arrived at about five-thirty and got our keys was to change and head to the beach. The evening warmth kept everyone on the beach until after half past eight.

The children released a lot of energy that evening, both there and at the restaurant we went to after, a ranch house with a sprawling tree-speckled complex of tables and chairs, benches, chaises longues, sunbeds and deckchairs surrounding a small raised pool with a bridge over it. The Steakhouse El Campo is a seasonal venue open while there are enough summer tourists, and it’s run by a German man and his son. The Vater runs the restaurant in and around the ranch house while his Sohn runs the outdoor bar and grill near the pool.

Now we really felt like we were on holiday. During the week, we just did some typical tourist activities – visiting the beach, going to the park, walking in the cool night air, going to bed reasonably late, and eating local delicacies. We visited a lot of great restaurants and other places to eat, such as Hogar El Jubilado, an old-style hostelry owned by the local council and run by an elite team of workers. You queue up to make your order, they prepare it there and then, and by the time you’ve paid for it, it’s ready. There were potato salads, seafood salads, Russian salads, tortillas españolas, meatballs, cheeses, fresh fish dishes, chicken drumsticks, and a whole 1-and-a-half-metre-long fridge with whatever dessert you could desire. They opened for breakfast at the crack of dawn with croissants and pains au chocolat and closed at midnight after the last beer was poured. It was the town’s beating heart, and the people working there were happy, mischievous and highly efficient.

You can tell the quality of the place by the amount of insolence they are willing to hurl at you, and this place was right there at the top. Their coffee was tremendous and so was their teasing. It was here that I said to myself “I think we’re going to be all right.” I’ll be honest with you, I was still in mourning for our old life, and I often had moments when I just wanted to cry. Looking back, it was compounded by a deep fatigue from all the hard work before we left, but it didn’t take away the sting from having to uproot the entire family from everything they knew.

All I can say is the younger three were having the time of their lives, and the last thing on their minds was returning to our former house in Saarburg and going back to any schools in Luxembourg. And that was the most comforting thing. Because after this week, we were to start our new lives and they were to go to school.

But that is for another post. 

 

 

Will Brexit bring about greater democracy and prosperity? Simple answer: no. More complicated answer: below

The first things all Brexiteers bang on about are:

1. The money the UK throws at the EU when it could give it to the NHS
2. The democratic deficit at the heart of the EU
3. Immigration issues
4. EU law and human rights
5. Corporate freedom
6. Independence
7. Because the UK is always isolated and never gets its own way

These are smokescreens for the the general consumption of those who like their news delivered in handy little soundbites that they can quote later to Bill down the pub. The real truth is somewhat greyer and a lot less savoury. As someone who lives and works on the inside, I would like to put the record straight on a few of these.

MONEY, FUNDING AND THE NHS
Firstly, let us consider a few things concerning the distribution of funds. The UK puts in a lot of money as it is one of the richest. It works a little like the tax system: the more money you make, the larger your contribution, so of course you are going to pay proportionally more than, say, Spain or Finland, but sizeably more than the Czech Republic or Slovenia. That is normal. Why are Brexiteers complaining about this? It seems they want to be clients, not team players. Where's the solidarity in that? And what the country gets in return is never discussed as it's not in their interests.

Yes, the EU can be a little profligate with the funds, but the fact is: agriculture, science and research, infrastructure, education and many other aspects of life would not receive the funding they need, and I include the NHS here, because I think herein lies the rub: the EU funds these things without subjectivity, based purely on need and the effect it will have on the improvement of people's lives.

Do you really think, deep in your heart of hearts, that the Conservative/Neoliberal alliance at the top of and above the UK government really cares about those things? I don't; I think it is another chance to grab more public money. Why waste it on schools when it could be invested in private enterprises and corporate landgrabs? 
At least, with the EU, those funds get to where they are supposed to. Take it away, and watch the NHS falling and being sold off, schools getting privatised, infrastructure budgets being cut, and farms being sold off to rich landowners who can turn them into supermarket-run agri-factories.
Do you trust the UK politicians to look after the NHS, farms and schools? Honestly???

DEMOCRACY
There is the supposed democratic deficit at the heart of the EU. Well, shall I tell you what a democratic deficit looks like? It looks like people who act in their own interests whether they are elected or not. Democratically-minded people do things in the public interest anyhow, whether elected or not. The expenses in the European Commission are incredibly stringently controlled by the Court of Auditors, and you will not see the civil servants being chauffeured about in black cars. You will, though, see the politicians (yes, those in the European Parliament too) being chauffeured about, because they are politicians and to leave them to public transport would be like asking a Yorkshire terrier to do your accounts.

But the Commission is pretty apolitical and works for the benefit of all, and despite its many foibles, is actually more on the side of the people than the politicians. There is a European Ombudsman that anyone can use to blow the whistle on improprieties; there is a European Consumer Rights and Law commissioner, who makes sure we get value for money, like reducing mobile phone tariffs across the EU; and there is a scheme whereby any EU citizen can go into the embassy of another EU country when abroad and get proper representation. But you don't hear about these things because it's not in the interest of the EU's detractors.
But it's a terrific trick of national governments that they get the Commission to do their dirty work, taking one for the team, time after time after time, so that they don't get blamed. The fact of the matter is, though, the 28 national leaders of each country, known as the Council of Ministers, sit down around the world's most expensive table to discuss what they wish the Commission to implement. So, the Commission is, in essence, just carrying out orders of national politicians. In the words of Sir Humphrey Appleby in Yes Prime Minister, "Almost all government policy is wrong... but frightfully well carried out."

IMMIGRATION
This is the scare story du jour. And it's a complete fallacy. Let's be honest, shall we? The country is not overcrowded; it is just underdeveloped and badly maintained. The infrastructure was built 150 to 200 years ago after the Industrial Revolution for the society then, and it has been slow to be updated. The roads in the UK are far narrower than in France or Germany, the houses smaller, the hospitals and airports built in far smaller plots. Look at Barajas Airport in Madrid - it is on a plot 5 times bigger than Heathrow. Charles De Gaulle, Frankfurt and such are massive in comparison. But the main issue is housing. It is not that there is no space; it is that the developers have artificially created a bubble by not building on the land they were designated, and so the demand sky-rockets and the prices go up. It is not in their interests to build because the prices will tumble and their profits too.
Furthermore, do you really think the country will sink into the mud because Poles, Lithuanians and Romanians, the large part of whom have a greater work ethic for less pay, are doing all the manual jobs? No. Because, sadly, Brits have become colonialists in their own country. Don't blame the new arrivals - blame mean-minded bosses for not being willing any more to pay full price for a proper day's work. Do you think this will clear up after Brexit? Do you think the gap will return and the market will be filled with British workers in the fields, on building sites and under the kitchen sinks? Rubbish. The market demand is insatiable and even if you started to train up locals now to take over, the full quotient would not be ready for employment for a good few years. And do you think prices and wages will remain the same? No. Because British people still expect a bargain, but workers will not accept the same payment rates as those who come to Britain for work out of necessity. What you will end up with is a skewed law where the cheapest will get all the work and hourly rates will fall everywhere in all sectors of work.

EU LAW AND HUMAN RIGHTS
It is claimed that too many people are abusing the EU's Human Rights legislation. Too many people are taking advantage of the current law to get out of prison or to get more benefit payments for themselves. This is not a falsehood, but it is an exaggeration. The UK government has suggested withdrawing from the ECHR (European Convention on Human Rights), drawn up by British lawyers after WW2, and implementing its own Bill of Rights. They can go ahead if they want, but the fact that all EU citizens are guaranteed the same rights is enshrined in EU law, meaning equal treatment for all.
Do you really think, Dear Reader, that the British government will make the situation better? I can answer that one now: of course not. If anything, it will make it easier to implement other laws that restrict the rights and freedoms of everyone in the land. I cannot imagine a more sinister power-grab than this. Imagine something simple as EU law concerning consumer rights: let us say you buy a kitchen and it is riddled with problems. EU consumer protection law dictates that the company has to either correct it or replace it without cost. The same goes for clothes, furniture, computers, everything. You have the right to return your goods to the shops within 14 days of purchase, all because of EU law. 

The four very elements that the Leave campaign is highlighting are the four very elements that everyone should be worried about. It is a myth that things will improve if the UK leaves - the EU guarantees so many more freedoms to its citizens:

• The right to work in other EU countries without needing visas, residence permits or the filling of quotas
• The right to study in another EU country for all or part of your university course (Erasmus)
• The right to the same mobile phone roaming costs and no nasty bills no matter where you are in the EU
• The right to the same standard of healthcare as back in your own country
• The right to vote in local and European elections wherever you are
• The right to live where you want and be treated by the local councils and national governments the same as locals
• The right to the same consumer law as everywhere else
• The right to jump on a train, plane, boat or bus to France, Belgium or wherever and not need to worry about declaring your alcohol or tobacco
• The right to go from Lisbon to Warsaw without showing your passport

And many other things.

THE SILENT TAKEOVER

Just remember one thing: once the UK frees itself from the EU shackles (in other words from keeping it on the straight-and-narrow), there will be nobody else to keep an eye on the opportunism and impunity with which the corporate elite will act. This is your future. Nobody can tell you this because this is much more inflammatory than the stuff that the In and Out camps have been propagating thus far. The In campaign dare not say these things because some of them would be believed.

But the time is coming for you to make up your mind. Do you want to guarantee your own subjugation to a corporate elite? Do you want to hand over the things you most cherish about social democracy to faceless (and often heartless) drones in glass towers? Would you rather your tax money went to help the landed gentry to buy up the rest of the countryside and pay for their own limousines or would you rather your taxes guaranteed a harvest? Would you rather your money went to help poor people up the social ladder a little? Would you rather your taxes paid for infrastructure and education, whether here or in the EU at large?

I know where my allegiances lie - and leaving the largest trading bloc the world has ever known is not going to bring you prosperity. It will bring more prosperity to those who already have it, while turning the country into a feudal state.

INDEPENDENCE

Independence from what?

The UK is already independent. 

But I'll tell you what they want you to believe:

That outside the EU "we" will be able to make our own laws. What kind of laws? Do you think it will be for the benefit of UK citizens? I don't. It will be for the benefit of the One Per Cent.

Furthermore, we need to remember who we are and not who we were. We are members of a club of 28 nations, some of whom are "more European than others", so to say. It is time the UK started acting more European and stopped sniping from the sidelines. The EU is more heavily supported by smaller countries than larger ones, and the answer is simple: the President of the European Commission is Luxembourgish, the previous one Portuguese. the President of the European Council is Polish, the previous one Belgian. The thing is, it gives the chance for smaller countries to shine on the world stage like they would never be able to if they were independent. 

The larger countries of the south, like Spain and Italy, are also by-and-large pro-EU because they understand the prestige membership brings them. The prosperous and fiscally careful countries of the north and central areas, like Sweden, Denmark, Poland and the Czech Republic, are more sceptical because they also like their freedoms, but none of them would think leaving the EU would solve their problems. The largest countries, like France and Germany, have found it hardest to assimilate to the EU because they have needed to shrink, or at least take on fewer airs of a large country although this is of course very difficult, especially when it seems nobody else is on your side. Just ask Angela Merkel about refugees and the "solidarity" she received. 

Even Greece, the country with the biggest reason to be upset with the EU, does not want to leave. It might want to leave the Eurozone, but most definitely not the EU. So the UK is a little bit like Denmark, and a little bit like Germany. What it needs to do is just relax into its role as a counterbalance to the Eurozone's largest powers and stick up for those countries that wish to remain outside. It needs to engage more, be more understanding and empathetic, and stop thinking everyone should act like them.

Do you really think independence will guarantee self-control? I don't. I can't see how voting to leave a club but having nevertheless to pay membership fees to access it will really make the UK independent. The conditions would remain similar but the UK would not be permitted a say in any matters. Furthermore, it will take years to undo all that constitutional paperwork.

Which brings me on to...

HAVING A SAY IN EU AFFAIRS

The UK is alone and isolated in EU negotiations? Rubbish. The UK has had a great deal to say about the EU and its workings. 

• For one thing, the UK was central in introducing the call for tender system known as TED to allow for a more simplified and equitable EU-wide system of provision of goods and services so any company anywhere can bid for a supply contract. 
• The UK, as the largest non-Eurozone member state, is the de facto leader of the outside pack and recently negotiated more rights for those wishing not to join the Euro. 
• The actual running of some of the EU institutions has in recent years become much more familiar to British civil servants than to French ones. The streamlining of administrative processes, the cutting of costs and bureaucracy, the accountability of every job posting, the justification of every business journey made, the pricing of every cup of coffee poured in an EU building... everything in the EU institutions is accounted for, down to the limitation of photocopies for language trainers. 
• Furthermore, English is the prevalent language these days, and French is now a more and more distant second. German is waiting in the wings to be promoted if the UK leaves the EU. And English will, in one night, become obsolete as the Lingua Franca of the EU. It will lose its status as the working language of the EU institutions, and French, German and probably Polish or Spanish will get a much bigger role to play in the EU.
• There are disproportionately more British (and Irish) staff in managerial positions than other nationalities, although due to the geographical position of the EU institutions, French and Belgians make up a large part of the admin staff. In the Court of Auditors, English is the only language and to get a job there it is essential to speak it to a level good enough to work in.
• In negotiations, the only reason why it seems the UK is isolated is because the UK government really does not get the EU. It acts like a yob in Torremolinos, wanting all the home comforts but without the disadvantages. It was shocking and shameful for me to see my government try to negotiate favourable treatment in the EU and at the same time refuse to play any single part in the Syrian refugee crisis. 

If you really think the UK is hard-done-by it is all smoke and mirrors. The government just needs to stop moaning and get on with teamwork. If you think the EU is a gravy train, try speaking to assistants and administrators in Luxembourg at the bottom of the EU pyramid, where they earn less per month than local bus drivers, gardeners and cleaners. This is because staff in all EU institutions in all cities earn the same, calculated on Brussels salaries.

Finally, the EU is incredibly bad at promoting itself, which is both a good and a bad thing. On one hand, it means it is too busy doing what it is supposed to be doing rather than spending time and money advertising itself - the quiet ones are those who are getting on with the job rather than looking for reward. At the same time, it means people are malinformed and misinformed about the good it does. 

Get informed before you decide.

The EU is probably coming to an end and there may be nothing we can do about it

Don't believe me? Take a look around you. Read the papers and watch the news. It's happening. The creaking behemoth that has for years been eating up Europe's nations and swallowing their sovereignty in large chunks is about to burst in a huge bout of indigestion.

The idea is completely barmy to some. I work with EU civil servants all the time, so it is only normal that they will big up their roles and deny any evidence of EU disintegration. They say I'm just a Eurosceptic Brit and enjoy spreading the gloom. But the opposite is true - I am in fact pro-European; I am just anti-Brussels.

The reason for this is that the more Brussels tries to make Europeans and their governments join in their mantra of "ever-closer union", the more they are put off by it. Let us bring the EU into a more condensed setting: if you ask a street's neighbours if they think more close collaboration is necessary, they will say "yes". About what? Well, fighting local crime; putting out each other's rubbish when they're away or have forgotten; feeding their pets when absent; making informal, fair rules on parking; discussing noise levels, building and boundaries, and such like. In a European context, that means fighting international crime and exchanging information (Europol); removing the previous red tape and making it easier to live in another country without needing sworn translations or conversion of qualifications (Maastricht, Pisa and Bologna); bringing better understanding of each other's cultures in an academic setting (Erasmus) and making war an impossibility (Rome and everything thereafter).

What neighbourhood collaboration is most certainly not is knocking down the walls between the houses so everyone can see into your living rooms, kitchens and (heaven forfend) bathrooms and bedrooms. It is not about going on a camping holiday all together and all the awkwardnesses there would be surrounding bodily odours and showering. It is not about allowing neighbours to park on each other's driveways, or rearranging next door's garden so that it becomes the same as yours, or making everyone drive the same car, wear the same clothes, drink the same wine, go to the same shops or listen to the same music. And this cannot be done when new neighbours, who seem to be poorer and less pampered than the others move in, when half reluctantly accept their new arrivals and the others refuse to have anything to do with them. All this will do is create an air of exasperation. It will cause untold damage to neighbourly relations and cause the rapid re-building of walls and a lot of "For Sale" signs to go up in the street.

Having the opportunity to close the door behind you and keep out any unwanted interference in the family unit is not a luxury, it is a right. Being able to choose how you raise your family, what school the kids go to, where you go on holiday, who you spend time with, where you shop, what you wear, and what you eat are your choices and yours alone. Don't be fooled by the need to conform, integrate or do the same as everyone else. It's your life.

The same is of the European Union. There is currently too much integration. The arrival of the Euro was, at the time, a cause for celebration. It relied on the pretence that countries shared the same money even though they didn't share the same budget, pricing arrangements, economic systems, social security systems or even tax harmonisation. that's because, despite the willingness to share currency, nations are really loath to lose more sovereignty to Brussels. And this is where the plan unravels.

If countries are unwilling to open up their books, integrate budgets and amalgamate ministerial portfolios, there is no reason for them to keep up the charade that they really do want ever-closer union. I don't believe they do. And there is a trend running along national lines depending what governments want: the French, when they are unwilling to surrender sovereignty or do something about their overspending (CAP; social security bill) will accuse their detractors of being bad Europeans. This tactic has kept up the illusion that France is a rich nation for many years now. It is not rich; it just has a large territory and population. It is an agrarian country that masquerades as a world power. The Germans will strong-arm the smaller nations into falling into line by finding some other nasty experience to threaten them with, like send Wolfgang Schäuble to shake a finger at them. The British keep moaning and sighing from the sidelines and veto or opt out of everything, while hoping to gain support from other Eurosceptic countries, who often make friendly noises until the Germans and French tell them to step in line behind everyone else. The Italians and Spanish, despite being fairly large countries, do what they are told and the Poles want to join in the Franco-German gang and become the third main motor of the European project.

It would be like Mr Johnson at No 24 and Mr Simmonds at No 26 deciding what all the others in the street should be doing and accusing those who don't want to do the same of being bad neighbours. This is not right. Why should the whole street succumb to the systems dreamed up by the Simmondses and Johnsons, when there are so many other neighbours in the street who are unhappy with their situation? I'll tell you why: because Messrs Johnson and Simmonds have too many good deals going on.

In national circumstances, it means the government of France is creaming off a lot of cash to subsidise its burgeoning agricultural sector without having to reduce it, therefore keeping the farmers from burning Paris to the ground, because it is too feeble and frightened of its militants to take drastic action and take them on, and Germany has profits for life from having persuaded many other countries to integrate with the Deutsche Mark back in the day, and making everyone sign a contract saying "if you break the economic chain, this automatically becomes the property of Germany." Everyone fell for it.

This is no way to run an international organisation. In fact, this can only lead down one path. The inexorable rise of anti-European parties and anti-austerity movements. And who will be the victims? The ordinary people. We will be cutting off our noses despite our faces. The European project is a force for good. It has helped integrate us for the better and for the common improvement of our status in the world and our standard of living. What it has also done is it has shown just how selfish, opportunistic and avaricious nation states really are, even though they won't tell you. Don't forget, what the EU's Council decides to carry out in Brussels is the brainchildren of the 28 EU leaders, not the Commission - that particular institution just carries out the Council's instructions.

Some countries want to play no part in the allocation of asylum seekers; some do not want to make efforts to reduce their national spending; some are unwilling to end their reliance on a particular sector of industry, even if it is anti-competition or even hurting other member states. Some do not want to be at all flexible in the economic plight of the poorer member states. This is all leading to the inevitable withdrawal of countries from various treaties and agreements if they don't get their way.

If I were David Cameron right now, I would feel like a real prize turnip. Having promised a referendum on the UK's membership of the most successful multinational organisation of them all, granting small nations unprecedented standing in the world and prosperity the likes of which had not been foreseen even in the 1960s, I would now find myself in the awful position of being the prime minister who most likely took my country out of it. Nigel Farage and his ragbag collection of buffoons and bigots will tell you that the UK is better out, but they are missing the point. The EU and its institutions are cementing the future for a better society. It is just unfortunate that many nation states, not just the UK, have vested interests that they are unwilling to compromise on. If we could all trust each other, this would not be an issue, but it is.

The other thing David Cameron has failed to realise is he has been visiting various capital cities trying to gather support for his request to get a deal done on UK membership and conditions, but the French and German cabal has pre-empted this by saying it would require treaty change, while at the same time sewing up their own deal that does not require treaty change. This is despicable, underhand, and a brazen attempt to highlight who is in charge in the EU. On the other hand, while Cameron has been trying to negotiate this deal with one pleading face, and with the other, sterner face, with issues like asylum he has been saying "no". He cannot seriously hope to get something out of it if he, for example, refuses to take in his country's fair share of the current wave of refugees. In all of this, hypocrisy and power games seem to pervade. This is not the right climate to instil trust and confidence in your neighbours.

The simple answer to this is as follows: what Europe needs to do is to consolidate its progress so far. Maybe for ten years to a generation, it needs to put any more major integration projects on ice and take stock of its current situation. People need to be aware of how far it has come and the leaders need to take a step back and look on their work, adjust it where necessary and make the system work. If this means that after a shorter time it becomes clear that a Eurozone social security and tax system needs to be set up, or if it becomes evident that greater flexibility and understanding of nations' individual concerns need to be addressed, so be it. The European project has indeed reached a crossroads. The only thing is, one of those future directions is also back along the way we have travelled. And nobody wants to go there, do they?

Finally, Europe needs to take the concerns of its non-Eurozone members into account. It needs to address British, Scandinavian and to some extent central European attitudes to the European project, that have always been seen as non-integrationist and anti-European. It is so far from the truth that it hurts. Everyone thinks that the good things the EU has done are to be cherished and kept. But some are unwilling to drop too many barriers because they value their privacy and right to choose. If certain rights were granted these non-Eurozone countries, I am quite sure they would have nothing against the rest carrying on with their ever-closer union.

I am also one of those neighbours who values his privacy. I don't mind inviting people round for drinks or lending them a few quid until pay day, but I will most certainly not let them open my fridge door or help themselves to the contents of my wallet. And this is why the European project may be doomed in any case: if you get too close to someone, there will inevitably be more arguments.

What is the greatest nation in the world?

What is the best country in the world?

Surveys are made by newspapers and magazines on the subject. TV documentaries are broadcast showing people's opinions. Newsweek even put out a thirty-page spread about it. But these types of surveys don't talk about the real question: what is the greatest country in the world?

Firstly we need some criteria. So we must look at the country's history - what is the point of a greatest country without a full story behind it? Then we should look at its people, who will of course have a collective memory, a rough stereotypical peculiarity and a thriving culture, all shaped by its history. Finally, we should look at its present. How is it now? Is it a successful nation or just plodding along? Are there many things to ascribe greatness to it in the present day?

So, let's look at the candidates:


1. France

History - Solid beginnings, lost their way when dealing with the monarchy. Replaced kings (beheaded) with the same kind of thing but not (always) born in a palace (see here). Got ever so tetchy about being only the second or third largest empire in the 19th century and was doubly upset by being invaded in the mid-20th and having to be rescued by their old rivals. Twice.

People stereotype - food, strikes, attitude and hygiene issues. Mainly socialist in public and conservative in private. Good films, bad TV. Most of it summed up by this man here.

How now? - see here.

Chances of winning accolade: - I won't be hanging out the Tricolor any time soon...



2. The USA

History - Completely missed out on the Renaissance due to not yet existing. Once established, went around charging other countries extortionate fees for rescuing them from Nazism and Communism before electing a series of baboons as leaders and invading a host of independent nations if they had differing views to those held by their chief monkey. The whole country is held together by glossy magazine celebrities.

People stereotype - Gullible, trigger-happy religious fanatics with a penchant for only seeing the world in black or white. Four legs good, two legs bad, size also matters here.

How now? - Most have no idea of the difference between what's right and what saves a few bucksworth of tax per year.

Chances of winning accolade - No chance, unless they ban oil drilling and propping up despotic régimes, renounce their addiction to money and put out a decent cricketing team.

3. China

History - Despite inventing a whole load of clever technical stuff whilst we Europeans were still swinging about in trees, lost the plot fairly early on through obsession with self-image and pageant, getting by with a vague change in the standard of civilisation each century until the mid-20th century, when after overthrowing four thousand years of Empire, the country was set back yet another thousand years by misguided ideologists who liked to take whole crowds for long walks. Only in the 21st century have they reached the point where they have to share the status of biggest economy in the world, but in the leagues of spreading human indignity and suffering, lack of care for the environment and lack of morals will always remain first. And considering this planet contains such barbaric places as Zimbabwe, Burma and North Korea, that takes some beating. Came of age at their Olympic Games in 2008, which were big on impressive technicalities and tiny on heart.

People stereotype - Don't ask - you'll get the same answer: "we're all happy and we love our country. And weren't the Olympics fantastic?" Mmmyesss.... Although if you turned the corner in Beijing, you wouldn't have known they were taking place.

How now? - Busy buying up minerals to sell to us when we run out, cosying up to dictators who can provide the elite classes with wealth beyond even Westerners' dreams, and destroying whole swathes of their own countryside with grand architectural projects to "civilise" their rural population.
Chances - About as slim as my chances of becoming next Pope. Will maybe be the biggest in everything one day not so far in the future, but never, ever the best. Ever.

4. Germany

History - Feuding princes and lords set about expansion in Europe quite early, developing a penchant for it. Did it every few decades or so. Country oddly disunited until the 19th century when someone had the brilliant idea of putting it together politically. A certain indiscretion in the middle of the 20th century sent this country's candidature to the back of the queue (except China) but its modern-day image is very good and continually rising.

People stereotype - Either über-efficient, über-capable and always blasting opponents off the football pitch, or sausage-munching, beer-swilling Lederhosen-wearing yodelers who drive at excessive speeds on Autobahns in their still German-owned cars.

How now? - A country at ease with itself these days, although still having trouble with foreigners (mainly French politicians and Austrian or Dutch maverick speakers), but still capable of impressing us with its stable economy and smaller but still thriving industrial base. "Made in Germany" still means something.

Chances - Would have been real contenders but for a slight misunderstanding of the territorial rules of the game of football in the mid-20th century, namely the game is supposed to remain on the same pitch.

5. The UK

History - Got invaded once by some angry Norman guy and didn't really enjoy the experience. Spent the next thousand years atoning for it by going off elsewhere so when invasion almost happened again, traded in their status of largest empire to keep their independence, only to immediately trade it in again for an equal share in a huge political pie with the very people they had only recently tried to fight off. Very dodgy infrastructure due to being the oldest industrialised nation. Has a language everyone speaks badly, and a reputation for the exportation of awful reality TV.

People stereotype - Badly dressed, or over-dressed, tea-drinking, umbrella-obsessed, aridly sober or gutter-crawlingly drunk, seagoing individuals who invent amazing stuff in sheds and queue up for the chance to get on overcrowded trains.

How now? - Refreshingly different to everyone else, although this may be its problem. The country was in the process of reinventing itself through the power of taking away from the people its centuries-old faithfulness to civil liberties, replacing the friendly policeman with a camera on every building. That was, until the 2010 election, whose outcome fortunately may have caused the reversal of this disturbing trend. Still the benchmark when it comes to innovation and invention (if the Chinese don't steal it and patent it).

Chances - Strongest contender so far, and not because I'm one of them.



But..........



I'd like to consider a dark horse in this contest, a country which if it were human you'd probably not notice, sitting there in its quiet corner being busily occupied with the continent's plumbing and electricity. This contender is entrant number
6. Poland

History - After driving out the Hungarians, the Germans, the Austrians, the Russians, the French, the Prussians and even the mighty Swedes over centuries and centuries of invasion from north, south, east and west, this prized strategic area of land had a powerful influence on early democracy. It was the object of the desires of the leader of our candidate number 4 in the middle of the 20th century. After suffering from the most abysmal atrocities it was saved by a neighbouring country which then occupied it for the next 45 years, subjecting it to humiliating acts of subservience from time to time. This did not stop the people from rising up against them in brave acts of defiance. Was quickly accepted into the EU after the fall of its occupiers, now one of the most respected members of its new family of nations, contributing a compatriot to be European Parliament President. Due to its people's practical skills, is well on the way to being the most needed nationality in Europe.

People stereotype - People speak a fairytale language full of tricky fricatives and nasal vowels, but "you have a leaky tap? No problem, my cousin Wojciech will fix it for you for a reasonable price and a happy smile on his face." For a nation that has endured so much, the fact they have such a happy attitude and a proper sense of community still, signifies something much deeper than what lies on the surface.

How now? - Although still has some catching up to do, the fact it has survived its centuries of invasion and reinvasion, occupation and destruction, it is a country at peace with itself. Despite not having many motorways, has some of the best driving roads in the world and gives ordinary visitors the kind of welcome reserved for princes elsewhere.

Chances - Maybe, just maybe...

I can't think of any other decent contenders.

Mrs Blair vs Mr Thatcher: the French presidential candidates

So the French elections are entering their final episode, when the proud people of that nation cast off the 5th Republic's statuesque leadership and finally enter into the political world of the 20th century. They have been waiting for this moment since the massive strikes of the nineties. France is no longer the place it used to be: people accept the need to make their country relevant outside Europe. They also know they have some problems internally. But do they?

Let's look at the facts:
France has one of the best health services in the world
It is one of the leading tourist destinations, battling Spain and the United States for supremacy
It has a reputation for fine wines and aesthetic food
It has the highest amount of people taking part in sport in Europe
The architecture and infrastructure of most of its towns are very nicely organised
This means a high standard of living
It has a world-class working ethic, balancing family and profession

But:
It has a high ethnic minority population which feels disenfranchised from the "real France"
It suffers from high unemployment and a flagging industry sector
It subsidises agriculture to the point where it is no longer to produce food, but to keep angry militant farmers in jobs
It props up all types of meaningless traditions, jobs and ways of life to stop its members revolting
It boldly tries to form an alternative to the "American Way", and would have great success, but for nobody taking it seriously enough

And this is where the problem lies: France doesn't really have anything to worry about, none of its problems can be solved overnight, but not all of them are incurable. Its people are just suffering from a temporary inferiority complex brought about by the realisation that they are no longer major players in Europe or the world at large. This realisation came in two waves. Firstly, in its drop from on high:

- When London won the bid for the 2012 Olympic Games, France understandably went into a period of inward-looking self-pity, thinking that the "Anglo-Saxon" (as some of the detractors like to call the UK and the US) hegemony was dangerously extending into deep-seated French creations like the modern Olympic movement. I seriously believe London won simply because its final presentation focused on the Games themselves, not on the smiling faces of its inhabitants in the videos which accompanied them. Paris was a gimme until that final moment.

- Another was its loss of linguistic and political power in the European Union. Until the arrival of the 10 newcomers, France and the French language were in control of most of the European debate. With the arrival of countries like Estonia, Slovakia, Cyprus and Malta, where French has few learners, let alone speakers, the shift eastwards meant English was now the only realistic working language of business and politics in Europe. More importantly, it also meant the European monetary mentality and political mindset had shifted from social state to market economy.

Its second realisation was waking up to find its young people, its unemployed but most of all its minorities feeling threatened and intimidated. The future of France, excluded from the workplaces and ignored in discussions on its direction, left outside of any meaningful roles to play. Cities quaked with fear as cars were set on fire, shops looted and what were communal areas became empty by day and fraught with lawlessness by night. The French way of life was taking a battering. Those with jobs knew they had a job for life no matter what, as long as they didn't rock the boat or challenge their bosses. The hierarchy ruled and those below waited until a place became free to move up. The rest just stood in line catching the leftovers thrown from those on the ladder of employment.

These two factors have pushed France to accept it needs to change, but nobody has a plan yet. Ideas are abundant, opinions everywhere, but actions are not forthcoming.

Enter the two candidates:
Mrs Blair, alias Ségolène Royal
Mr Thatcher, alias Nicolas Sarkozy

Ms Royal has so far shown she is a listener and a sympathetic mother-figure who wants to reform the country but she has not set out any policies in stone yet. She has attacked Mr Sarkozy for his immorality and bloodthirsty ambitiousness but she has tried to copy Mr Blair's image-conscious election campaigns and vague election promises. Mr Sarkozy on the other hand has shown his hand and nailed his flag to the mast. He seems to have some draconian views on France's problems and his popularity has risen, Thatcheresque, by his controversial views and hard-line reform packages. Like Mrs Thatcher, he has gained further popularity by his sheer bloody-minded insensitivity to what people think of him.

If France is to change, it is going to have to put up with a lot of pain. It seems the country is bent on re-invention but this may just come with a change of leader and the rest will take care of itself. Alternatively, the new leader may seek to curry favour with the whole population and continue to give in to the unreasonable demands of its more militant inhabitants. I think it will depend on who gets his/her message across better when in power. Sarkozy is likely to be blunt, forthright and obstreperous in his pursuit of overhauling the system. Royal will probably be explanatory in her vision yet vague in the way she wants to do it, in order to persuade the population to adopt her methods.

Mr Sarkozy's main downside is himself. If he can get through the message that he is serious about his policies, some (like his reduction of tax, which seems unrealistic at this juncture) which curry favour with the honest worker and some (no Turkey in the EU) which further disenfranchise the minorities, there could be some turbulence ahead.

Ms Royal's main problem is her much-too-benevolent ideas ("consolidate" the 35-hour week, raise the minimum wage by 250 euro) which seem to just make a mockery of France's need for reform.

Whoever wins in the early hours of Monday morning, one thing is for certain: both will be accused of u-turns and lies to win the Elysée. For Royal to further subsidise the poor and for Sarkozy to maintain tax levels to support his agenda, I fear nobody is fooled by the insincerity and idealism. They will both have a shock when they see the small budget they have to carry out their plans.