Oh, just what we need – another tale of a stupid Brit in France.
The DH, bless him, sent me this link yesterday.
It’s the tale of another beleagured Englishwoman who came to France, found it wasn’t paradise, and left with her tail between her legs.
I’m feeling a bit of a whingeing Pom myself this week, frankly, as my book, Living in France, is now down to its final sales.
If this woman, who has now landed a book contract detailing her shoddy experiences, had bothered to read it, she wouldn’t have made half the mistakes that sent her running for home.
Those of us who have succeeded in our new lives in France get the serious hump with rich Brits who come over here, swan around complaining about how you can’t get custard creams in the shops and then head for home describing France as an appalling third-world country. Really, I can’t imagine why anyone lives here, dahlink, what with the lack of culture, lack of healthcare, and natives who don’t even speak English.
Oh well, there is nothing to be done, in a world where Jordan and Paris Hilton get to be celebrated just for being stupid tarts. Doubtless the author of this drivel will make far more money from her book than I did from mine, which actually HAS value, and I can continue to spit and snarl.