A Rosbif in Paris

In a word, no.

Now a bit longer. I’m not writing this blog as a means to “have a go” at the French. If I was, then I wouldn’t have lived here for the best part of 13 odd years. I’d have “buggered off to where I came from” if I didn’t enjoy living in this country. The land of fine wines, fine women and snails. If I was living in the UK, I’d quite happily criticise the English too.

I’m not blind enough to see that I’m not living in Utopia. Far from it. So whilst I may be old enough to have a membership to the Grumpy Old Gits club or be a member of the Bleeding Hearts and Liberals club too, I will endeavour to keep the blog balanced.