Notes from Angleterre-sur-Mer
And the Frenchest story ever
Dear Friend,
I hope you are enjoying spring, if that applies to you. Paris is still playing with us, offering us glimmers of what looks like café-terrace weather, and then covering them up with rain and cloud.
My last few weeks have been a little consumed by work, including some interesting assignments, which I’ll write about below!
Welcome to Angleterre-sur-Mer
A couple of weeks ago I went to Guernsey for an article that should be published soon. Last summer the island announced that French tourists would be able to travel there for the day using just their national identity cards, rather than their passports. This is what they would have been used to before Brexit, and apparently the scheme helped encourage more French people to visit for the day last year. I was particularly interested in what the French visitors made of the island and how their tourism there differed to that of British tourists.
Guernsey and its neighbour Jersey are neither French nor British, but rather they are self-governed dependencies of the British Crown. The most senior figures on each island are the bailiff, who is the civil head of the country and head of the judiciary; and the lieutenant governor, who is the representative of the British Crown. Both these roles are appointed by the Royal Family. In Guernsey, the whole island votes as a single constituency and elects 38 People’s Deputies.
It’s a place of contradictions. Geographically, France is much closer: the island is about 45 miles from France and 150 miles from the south coast of England, but they are on UK time. Most of the electricity comes from the French grid and road names are mostly in French, but people speak English and the high streets are lined with Co-op, Marks & Spencer and Boots. The islanders use their own Guernsey pound, which has the exact same value as Sterling, but cannot be used outside of the Channel Islands and also features a charmingly retro one-pound note. With its bunting-decked high-street, the capital St Peter’s Port feels almost like a pastiche of a quaint English town.
The idea of being able to take a short boat ride and essentially be in Angleterre-sur-Mer is, I discovered, a big draw for French tourists. For me, a Brit living in France, I was particularly thrilled that I was able to shop for M&S socks and Cheddar cheese and bring them back in my suitcase! I met an excited French mother and daughter on the ferry who were going to Sark, a rugged smaller island where there are no cars to spend a week reading and playing cello!
Beyond the rosbif charms, the main draw for French people is Hauteville House, the grand home where Victor Hugo lived in exile for 15 years during the Second Empire. The writer got in trouble with Napoleon III (Bonaparte’s nephew) when the latter abolished democracy and made himself emperor (in the image of his uncle). Hugo was a staunch Republican (in non-American sense) and spoke out against the ruler’s power grab. As a result he became an enemy of the state and was forced to leave the country. He went first to Brussels, then Jersey, before ending up high on a hill in Guernsey.
Already successful and famous when he arrived on the island, Hugo bought this grand house overlooking St. Peter Port with his literary earnings and throughout the years furnished it to his own taste. While living there he wrote much of Les Misérables and less-known The Toilers of the Sea, which is set in Guernsey.
On the tour we discovered four storeys of wildly varying rooms. There’s a conservatory covered in occultist and Kabbalah symbolism; a room furnished entirely in rugs; and a Delft-pottery-themed room with an H-shaped fireplace and a throne with Hugo’s name engraved upon it.
Higher up in the house there’s an ornamental bedroom that’s thematically split down the middle, with one half themed around light and life and the other death and decay! Hugo’s eldest daughter Léopoldine had died in a tragic boat accident a few years before the writer came to Guernsey and afterwards he was reportedly very preoccupied with death.
On the light-bathed top floor we were shown Hugo’s writing and sleeping quarters. There were shades of the Silicon Valley about it, I thought. He wrote from a natty patterned sofa with a fold-out table, or a standing desk that he had custom-made; he slept on a Spartan fold-out futon.
In contrast to the rest of the island, everything about the house is distinctly French. In fact, it enjoys a kind of honorary consulate status. Hugo’s descendants sold the property to the City of Paris and it is run by Paris Museums. The staff are almost all French and there are more French than English tours.
Hugo was pardoned a few years into his exile but refused to return to France until the fall of Napoléon III, which happened in 1870 after the emperor’s defeat in the Franco-Prussian war. When he moved out of the house, the writer planted a tree that he named the ‘Oak of the United States of Europe’, which I found quite amusing.
Protests, pétanque and the soul of Montmartre
This week I reported on a story that is so French that you would think I made it up entirely. But I didn’t! I have photos and a whole article to prove it. On a road named Passage de la Sourcière (Passage of the Witch), a luxury mansion once owned by the Hermès family — which today is a beautiful luxury hotel — sits side-by-side with a fifty-year-old pétanque club. The latter has been served eviction orders, and from there the story ensues. Here it is as it was published for Telegraph. I hope you will find it as interesting as I did.
There’s a battle underway for the soul of Montmartre – with a feisty boules club refusing to leave its luxury location
A wonderfully French row is underway in the leafy Parisian district of Montmartre, once famed for its bohemian artists but lately increasingly gentrified and commercialised by mass tourism. It involves angry protests, accusations of harassment, a bitter row between former friends, a luxury hotel – and pétanque.
The 52-year-old pétanque club, Club Lepic Abbesses Pétanque (Clap) has been given court orders to leave its picturesque home in one of the most attractive and high-end areas of Montmartre, close to the Sacré-Coeur Basilica. After a years-long battle with Paris City Hall, members have now resorted to pitching tents on the site, keeping a 24-hour vigil to prevent the area being cleared. Every day they stay they incur another €500 (£430) fine.
The land, which contains eight pétanque pitches and a café kiosk, originally belonged to an artist of the Barbizon School called Félix Ziem, whose daughter sold it to Parisian authorities. In the 19th century, this area was known as the Maquis de Montmartre, an unofficial cluster of wooden huts where poor Parisians lived. But as Montmartre became a fashionable venue for counterculture and cabarets during the Belle Époque, many inhabitants of the slum were moved out. In the early 20th century, Avenue Junot was built, lined with imposing buildings that today contain some of the most expensive and sought-after apartments in Paris. Tucked just behind them, out of the view of tourists and even many locals, Clap’s metal boules have been clacking away since the Seventies.
“This club was created 52 years ago, but [...] we have not been here illegally for 52 years, contrary to what people say. We can prove that,” said Luc Magnin, a member of Clap, on Tuesday morning. Indeed, the town hall of the 18th arrondissement, where Montmartre is located, corroborates that the club was established with the consent of the local authority.
Clap’s residence almost ended in the 1980s, after plans were unveiled to build an underground car park on the site, but this was ultimately blocked after years of protest. In 1991, the surrounding area was surveyed and classified as protected, and then in 2022 City Hall called for proposals to officially lease the land.
Jean-Philippe Daviaud, a Paris councillor in charge of commerce, artisans and Europe for the 18th arrondissement, said: “At a time when this area was very working class, this land was made available to a local boules club. It has changed a lot since then, but [the arrangement] stayed like that – in a very informal way. Today, situations like that don’t exist anymore. The city does not have the right to give [away] a piece of public land [without] a contract, and payments from the organisation in question in exchange for occupying the space.”
Representatives of Clap insisted that it made efforts to create an official contract, and begin paying rent, but claimed they were dismissed or not looked at properly. It added that it only had two months to put together a proposal, which had to adhere to strict criteria for the land to be open to the public, ecologically beneficial and economically viable.
The contract was ultimately awarded to Oscar Comtet, director of the Hôtel Particulier Montmartre, a neighbouring five-star hotel. He plans to open the space to the public, replacing the food kiosk with a pond, and some of the pétanque pitches with a garden (though six will be kept, including two suitable for competitive play). The planned garden, which already has a website and Instagram page, will be called Jardin Junot, and feature a petting zoo for children, beehives, cultural events and family-friendly activities.
But there’s a novel-worthy twist. Comtet is a local – and a member of Clap since the age of 12. “We saw Oscar grow up,” said Clap spokesman Maxime Liogier. “We taught him to play boules, and he was good. He had talent.”
A tired-sounding Comtet responded: “Me, I have nothing to say except I am sad that it doesn’t suit them. I am fighting for this land to be reopened to the public, unfortunately it was made private [by Clap]. It’s a piece of public land, the town hall can’t access its own land, so I don’t know what to say. It’s really a shame.”
The Clap protestors accuse the project of “green washing” and think the plans are a mere pretext for expanding the hotel, an accusation roundly denied by Comtet and city authorities. The club frames it as a David versus Goliath battle: ordinary folk against a luxury hotel that can afford to invest hundreds of thousands into the land, advertising its project with a peppy social media presence.
The hotel director said that the proposed garden “is absolutely not linked to the hotel. It’s financed by the hotel, but it’s open to the public”. He insisted “it’s not a project for tourists, it’s a project for the people of Montmartre.”
In addition, Daviaud of the 18th arrondissement council maintained that the sports club was ultimately unwilling to give up the elements of the club that make it incompatible with Paris in the 21st century: namely the hosting of a private club on public land, and the serving and consumption of alcohol and other refreshments in the kiosk without the necessary permits.
Both Comtet and the town hall also said that the hotel director, his family and his staff have been threatened and harassed by protestors, reportedly leading to resignations from some of the people working there.
Beyond the mud-slinging and legal wranglings, Clap’s campaign seems to give voice to a more generalised feeling in Paris: a fear that the idiosyncratic charm of the city is being scooped out and sold. Earlier this year, graffiti was spotted on the sleepy square in the Latin Quarter where Netflix series Emily in Paris is filmed reading “Emily not welcome” – a response to some locals feeling inundated by tourists.
This dispute also comes against a backdrop of the approaching Olympic Games, the subject of criticism from some Parisians who feel the event plans prioritise the perception of the country internationally over the needs and concerns of locals.
Montmartre is concurrently in the process of applying for Unesco World Heritage status. Liogier lamented: “They speak about listing Montmartre with Unesco, but listing what? The tourist coaches? We are one of the last corners of neighbourhood life in Montmartre.
“It’s the death of… the soul of Montmartre, where Montmartrois can still meet, exchange, play cards and boules. Montmartre became known the world over because it was a real place, a working-class place.”
He added: “We’re not thugs. Far from it – but what happened is against the moral order, that’s why we are rebelling: we can’t agree to accept the absurd.” When I suggested the saga is a microcosm of every French stereotype – boules, rebellion, luxury hospitality – he couldn’t help but smile: “It’s French stuff, I know, I know, I know!”
See the live article on Telegraph
Thirty-second book club
I am reading Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver. It’s a version of Charles Dickens’ David Copperfield, transposed onto the Appalachian Mountains of Virginia and the opioid crisis. So far it’s engagingly written and compelling. Luckily (for this purpose) I have not read David Copperfield, so I really don’t know what is going to happen to our hero.
Thank you for reading this letter about Guernsey and Parisian boules. I hope you enjoyed it!
As ever, please do share or ‘like’ this letter if you feel moved to do so. I always appreciate it.
I’ll write next week. Have a lovely week until then!
Yours,
Hannah
This is all so good. You’re so talented x
I enjoyed this article so much because my American daughter was proposed to by her French fiancé in that section of Paris. I’ve been to France twice, once as an 18 year old nanny a very long time ago and again as a tourist 9 years ago. I absolutely love all things French!
Thank you!!!