I feel as though I should be honest with you from the very beginning :
My mother forced me to start this blog.
So that's the first impression you'll get of me. I have a determined, bossy and very English mother. The reason why she is so pushy is that she has been living in France for 19 years, and that is the only way things can be done around here, en forçant la main. I will spare you the clichés of offices only open from 2 til 4, rude salespeople and foul-mouthed drivers. BUT THEY ARE COMPLETELY TRUE.
This is not another tale of a Englishwoman lost in Paris. Loads of them have been written, and with more or less accuracy. I have read a few of them, and have always been more interested in what becomes of the offspring. You know the pattern, English girl falls in love with Parisian male, gets married in a hurry, sprouts a few kids, then promptly separates from husband because, in the end, the cultural differences are too important. Of course, this is a gross generalization. But it happens more often than not.
What about the fruit of this amour? How does one grow up with an English mother and a French father? More importantly, how can you make an English upbringing and a French education coexist?
Frankly, I don't have a clue. I am not going to rant about the clash of the cultures or pretend that being bilingual is nul. I realize that I am extremely lucky, and at 19, I am only just starting to comprehend the incredible insight on life that this double view of situations can offer.
In short, this blog is written by some sort of hybrid creature, who dips her baguette in her Earl Grey. It will probably be full of annoying comparisons between England and France. It might give out absolute stereotypes about both countries. But above all, The Franglaise chronicles the life of a London-born, Yorshire-originated, Ile-de-France-educated, Paris-emancipated literature student and aspiring journalist, whose only aim is to find real beauty in life, whatever the nationality.
