I don’t know about you, but I love the South Of France; for its space, its scenery, its climate and of course its wine! Basking under a mediterranean sun in our beautiful garden though, the hassle of getting there no longer seems worth it. That aside, I’ve never envied the French for much, except their long lunches and unmatched bread. However, it occurs to me they do have one other enviable asset, namely their Patron Saint. It was the 589th anniversary of her death yesterday, the occasion when Joan of Arc was burned at the stake for being a witch, amongst many other alleged transgressions, at the tender age of nineteen. By any standards she must have been a truly remarkable young woman and through the centuries has been revered in France for taking on and beating the English. Mind you, it took until 1909 before she was beatified by Pope Pius X in Notre Dame Cathedral and it was another nine years before she was canonised by Pope Benedict XV. They say (I’m not sure who they are or indeed if they’ve ever tried it) that victims of stake burning would’ve suffocated from the smoke and lack of oxygen before the flames caused unconscionable pain. It’s an experiment I might save for a later life. (I did burn the steak on the bbq last night, but it was already dead)
It’s taken a Millennium since Willie the Conk colonised Hastings before we have been able to fully enjoy the French way of life, but under lockdown East Sussex has so much in common with the Dordogne it’s eerie. The Sussex cheeses (from ewes and cattle) are as good as anything down there. The local wines are now of a very high standard, the artisan bread in Barley Sugar (our exceptional local deli) is beyond compare and the Downs provide scenery and open spaces that have assumed magical status under the relentless May sun.
There is another similarity between locked down Sussex and 15th Century France. With personal social interaction verboten, the need for personal cleanliness and the regular application of deodorant has become rather less crucial. I’m only guessing, but I imagine The Maid of Orleans and her merry knights weren’t too acquainted with Messrs Dior, Givenchy and Chanel. I am fearful that amongst all the other tragic casualties of this weird age, the purveyors of bodily perfumes in all their forms might be taking a terrible hit. It was hard enough to buy a stick of Eau Sauvage, non alcohol, aluminium free, underarm deodorant before this Covid catastrophe. Will another French legacy have succumbed? I do hope not.
ADayInTheStrifeOf 