A PEACEFUL BRITISH INVASION

An article in “Spotlight”

This article is about British people moving to Normandy, and so perfectly relates as well as to the topic covered this term as to the book I’m reading (“A year in Provence”). Families, who have spent their holidays in Normandy, fell under its spell and settled down actually in the middle of nowhere to make their wishes come true. Which wishes? To start a business from scratches since this couldn’t have been affordable (or maybe still isn’t) in Britain, inasmuch as the property market is up to five times as expensive. The trend towards heading down to France began 20 years ago.
What I found interesting is the remark that socialisation takes place not in pubs, as it is in Britain, but at people’s houses.

INTERESTING VOCAB:
- rat race – ständiger Konkurrenzkampf : to get out of the rat race

I have to say that I admire these people for summoning courage and above all for taking the plunge and go to leave somewhere else on our enticing blue globe. You might say that I did something similar, as I left Croatia, my home, to live/study abroad. Alike though it seems, it is by far not the same, since I left my country for the time being, except if I in the end marry a fetching Austrian guy and stay here.:) Be that as it may, what I want to say is that I cannot imagine living miles away from my place of birth. (Our house- the photo blow)
The story goes as it follows, since my brother and sister left the nest (they have their own family), the destiny of the house hinges somehow upon me. It is not that I crave to reside a village where neighbours green with envy don’t feel like talking to each other, but I cannot imagine putting the house up to sale. Moreover, I can’t live without my nephews. If it weren’t for these reasons, I would like to live in Africa. I’m talking rubbish!! I’m not at all like that. Well, maybe a bit.