Small town politics

Christmas officially started today in Carcassonne. The lights may have been on for weeks in London, but here in France they are a bit more concerned about their electricity bills, and so the lights were officially turned on this evening and the 'Magie de Noel' commenced.

It was a typical small town civic ceremony - very low key and quite charming really. There was no 'celebrity' on hand to sing a couple of songs and then press the big red button after a long countdown. Instead the mayor, M.Larrat, stood on a platform in front of the hastily constructed, and rapidly melting, ice rink, surrounded by a group of unfortunate school children, no doubt hand-picked for the event. A couple of hundred spectators watched on, huddled under umbrellas to protect themselves from the relentless drizzle. The mayor used the opportunity for a bit of canvassing ahead of the forthcoming elections, explaining how successful the Christmas event had become and, therefore, by association, his time in office.

Actually I think he has done a very good job in promoting the bastide town (not just the Cite), starting initiatives aimed at bringing in more visitors, ploughing money back into the infrastructure, renovation of old buildings and promotion of the area in general - all things that can only help my own business efforts here. I was told that three years ago there were no Christmas activities at all and everyone used to go off to Toulouse or Narbonne - now we have the ice rink and the market and the big wheel and the luge to name just a few of the things going on. Whether he has done as a good a job on housing, health and education I can't say. As a non-resident, I can't vote in the forthcoming election, but I hope M.Larrat gets to have another term in office.

When the mayor had finished his speech there was the usual embarrasing moment when he asked a question of one the poor cold children stood around him. The microphone was lowered to the young girl who was either so scared that she couldn't speak or just spoke so quietly in her shyness that no-one could hear what she said - bless - so the mayor repeated it and answered his own question, which I think was something like shall we turn the lights on now. Yes - get on with it - we are all getting wet.

The music from '2001 A Space Oddysey' started up and, at the end of the first bar, Neptune's arse (that was view from where I was standing) was illuminated in vibrant fuschia pink and at the end of the second bar the trees in the square lit up in alternate colours of blue and white. The 'crowd' broke out into a spontaneous ripple of applause, a few camera phones flashed in the night and then everyone went to find some shelter, or in my case, some dinner.

I had agreed to meet Patrick for some supper. A couple of weeks ago he had told me in the strictest confidence (he said that I was the only person he had told) that he had put in a bid to take over the Irish bar after it was shut down by the tax authorities on account of Michel, the previous owner, not paying over the tax for his staff. He was supposed to hear whether his bid had been successful in mid-November, then at the end of the last month and then definitely finally on Wednesday this week. So it was that he was informed this morning, Friday, that the bar was his. Hurrah. It will be a novelty for Carcassonne to have an Irish bar run by an Irishman.

Now I know that the only person that I have told about this was Debrah and she ain't spoken to nobody here. Patrick said this evening that for the past two weeks, every time he walked into a bar somebody would ask him whether he had heard yet - heard what? It appears that everyone in the town knew the circumstances of Michel's demise, the contenders in the bidding process and the likely outcome - no doubt someone set up a book and someone has made some money. This town is obviously smaller than I thought - whether everyone knows someone in the 'Mairie' or the licensing department or knows Patrick's lawyer or his accountant - basically, everyone knew what was going on.

It remains to be seen how everyone will react to a 'stranger' taking over a business in the centre of town. It also makes me a little bit wary of my own situation here. It's a delicate balance - being friendly with the locals, being accepted in the town, not pissing them off or turning them against you.

My Australian friend, Lesa, has been here ten years and is married to a Frenchman. She knows all the main players in the town but says she is still an outsider - they would all shut the door in her face without hesitation.

Sometimes I miss the anonymity of London - but not often. We shall see what happens when my guests start arriving. I have often wondered if some neighbourhood objection might suddenly appear - but then I am probably just being a paranoid Englishman in a foreign land.