Issue No.26

Autumn in France is a time of celebration and remembrance. For the last few
years, Halloween, which used to be largely ignored, especially here in the rural
far north where I am, has become much more popular. Go back just a few years
and you’d hardly know it existed, but now local shops are decked out with
festive spider webs, singing pumpkins and Halloween themed chocolate – you
won’t find me complaining.
Here in my little village we’ve just about reached the trick or treat stage with a
few kids traipsing through muddy farmyards to knock on doors for sweet
things. But to most people round here, Halloween is the night before La
Toussaint, All Saints Day, a time to remember loved ones no longer with us.
Every year French churchyards are a riot of colour on the 1 November national
holiday. Friends and family of the dearly departed take pots of vibrant
chrysanthemums to place on graves. We place flowers in our local churchyard
on the tomb of a WWI British soldier killed nearby. He is not forgotten.
Armistice day is a serious affair in France, as well as a National holiday. Each 11
November, at the 11th hour, we gather in front of the church memorial. The
Mayor lays a wreath and stands to attention alongside his deputy who solemnly
intones “Mort pour la France”, the Mayor then names villagers lost to war. The
British soldier is included. All is silent, other than cows mooing in the
surrounding fields. It’s a poignant event, one that brings the community
together.
Afterwards, everyone gathers at the town hall for a vin d’honneur, a glass of
wine, to honour the memories of those lost. Though this year we won’t be any
clinking of glasses, we must socially distance. As everywhere, the virus that has
turned our world upside down has impacted daily life here in the middle-ofnowhere
rural France. Mask-wearing is a way of life, the scent of alcoholic hand
wash is ever present and there is no kissing or handshaking - though many of
the older folks find it hard to remember these social restrictions. But as my 90
year old neighbour Claudette often says, quoting Victor Hugo "Even the darkest
night will end and the sun will rise"...
Bisous from France,
Janine
Editor of The Good Life France