Of Strikes And Being Stricken

Many French people are accomplished at finding imaginative ways of expressing dissatisfaction. For the past year or so the gilets jaunes have not only caused delays and blockages (mostly on Saturdays from what I've seen), but they have also been responsible for opening at random the barriers at the toll stations along the autoroutes. A few times P and I have arrived at a barrier to find that the machine won't take the payment card, but just then the barrier magically lifts - all the barriers lift in some kind of bizarre simultaneous salute to the power of the people in yellow jackets who have climbed on to variously constructed or found plinths, so that we may see and marvel. Or else the gilets jaunes congregate round their braziers displaying their drooping banners, slogans and yellow balloons at half-mast. This action is somewhat double-edged. While the strikers cause disruption and loss to the bosses the bosses have set about raising the tolls on the autoroutes, so that in the end they don't lose any money. It is a finely balanced game of chat-et-souris.

Since the beginning of December there has also been an ongoing general strike. The French are truly sorry, but they are still making everything as awkward as possible, as politely as possible - "malheureusement votre train 9*** ne circulera pas en raison de la grève nationale interprofessionnelle en cours. Croyez bien que nous en sommes sincèrement désolés."

For reference my usual monthly journey involves one train to London. Then

St Pancras International to Paris Nord - Eurostar
Paris Nord to Paris Gare de Lyon - TER
Paris Gare de Lyon to Genève Cornavin - Oui SNCF Lyria
Genève Cornavin to my final destination - Léman Express

The route plan above may help unravel the following:
Yesterday I received an e-mail informing me that one of the trains I was expecting to travel on was being cancelled. At least that's the gist of what I got from the message. My French is just about good enough to work that out. However, what to do from then on was simply overwhelming. After four hours of struggling with my SNCF phone app, the website on my computer and extended polite online chats with people bearing the unlikely names of David or Michael I did manage to change my booking from Paris to Geneva at no extra cost. The change would add an extra four hours to a journey and turn it into a twenty-two hour one. The reason for this is that, in order to be able to take advantage of the cheapest fares I have to be at St Pancras International at about 5am. The only way to do this is to leave home the previous evening and sit around St Pancras all night. The only part of the station left open all night is the UK booking hall passage between Midland Road and Pancras Road. It can get drafty. All that achieved I had my new departure organised from Gare de Lyon. 

On arriving in Paris Nord I tried to get to the TER line D (the green one) to discover that the usual TER route was being terminated at Châtelet les Halles, preventing me from getting through to Gare de Lyon. That meant negotiating the Métro, something that is for some reason much more complicated than the Tube in London. I also had to change lines mid journey. I took and deep breath and thought, "I can do this", specially now I had the extra four hours". I did it and climbed out of the Métro into the subterranean Hall 3 at Gare de Lyon before emerging into the glaring sunshine of Hall 2. Out of habit I checked the departure board and guess what ... my original train was apparently running after all! It hadn't been cancelled by the strike or by anything else. I had about an hour to see if I could change my later reservation back to the original time. Another deep breath because this would involve a lot of queuing and speaking a lot of French. In I went. The mission was accomplished even though the man behind the desk didn't appear to believe that I'd received an e-mail since the train clearly hadn't been cancelled. I tried to find the e-mail on my phone, but you know what it's like when in a panic and a fluster. You can never find what you want.

While I was waiting for my platform to be announced I was treated to the sight and sound of a strike march by Parisian railway workers right through the station. For a Tuesday lunchtime it was impressive that not only were trains running (after a fashion), but that the CGT union had mustered about two hundred marchers a month after the strikes began. President Macron has had to climb down on his proposed pension reforms, but is it enough? Action is continuing.

Not quite what I saw, but you get the idea. The Daily Telegraph was the first site to let me steal a photograph.

Of Post Election Disappointment Again

I'm quite used to being on the losing side. It doesn't ever stop the disappointment. After the horrible election in December 2019 I posted an article about being vigilant. It seemed apposite. The Tories have achieved little over the last forty or so years to earn my trust or my support. Many have acted with dishonour and the policies they have espoused have undermined any sense of fair play; or so it seems from where I'm standing. I look forward to being proven wrong, but evidence has yet to accumulate to ease my concerns.

After I shared the report a staunch Tory friend told me it was important to recognise that the majority had won and that I should be gracious in defeat. We were definitely going to leave the European Union and there would be no further delay. It feels as though this defines what is wrong with this particular kind of conservatism. It blames the losers for being hurt. It is surely the winner who can afford to be gracious in the winning. After all, what have they left to prove? The winner holds all the cards with an eighty-seat majority in the Commons. All I have is my ability to withhold cooperation and compliance, so don't tell me how to behave or what to feel. I'm not ready to hear that.

Surely the job of the "winner" is not to tell me how to behave. It is rather to draw me in, soothe my anxiety. Theirs is the responsibility for healing the damage. They need to prove they were right, much more than that I was wrong. I can't do their job from where I'm standing.

It seems always to have been thus. Poet/songwriter, Roy Harper, wrote the following lines in his song Kangaroo Blues:
Hey, Mr Nixon, Hey Mr. Heath
Can't you pull your pants up boys
I'm standing underneath

When my children were young they would sometimes get angry. All I knew about how to help was to hug them till they calmed down. I'm angry and I fear for worse to come. Maybe I just need a hug.