In the late 1940s, on Long Island, just east of New York City, a new kind of American landscape was being built. It was called "Levittown" - one of a few that would appear in the 40's and 50's, designed originally for returning WWII veterans, with affordable homes, solid construction, picket fences and identical facades. But along with the mortgages came something else: lawn obligations written into property deeds. The owners needed to agree to maintain their grass to a le

Red roses. Valentine’s Day. Floral messaging that has no room for manoeuvre or misconstrue. Important, perhaps becasue our February 14th intentions need to be absolutely legible. Our designs and desires must have clarity and meaning. The red rose then, is a comfortably predictable symbol, bought and sold by the dozen. In fact, 250 million red roses are produced globally, for this day alone. Beautiful, classic, fully unmistakable. Even if we feel that a red rose is actually st

Vanessa is American. Her entire family is American, as is her accent, her passport and most of her cultural references. Yet she says she doesn't "feel it" any longer. This makes me sad. We English feel that national identity (not Nationalism) represents a central value - not a totally defining one - but nonetheless a solid sense of tribe, to which humans have been hardwired, since the dawn of people.

Many of us tend to have a dim view of February. It really does seem to be the black sheep of our calendar. Short-changed on day numbers, an awkward ending to the cadence of that rhyme to remember - "30 days hath November" - it feels like the month that also ran - the racing term for runners and riders that were not really worth a real mention.But let's forgive the slightly gawky floundering of February. It was never a month designed to feel like such a fly in the hearty, w

February 1st is associated, in France, as well as various other parts of Europe, with Sainte Brigitte - a saint who rarely grabs the headlines like "the popular kids" - Francis, Jude and Christopher. There are no medallions - none of her miracles come to mind...

Turns out this photo is a fake, by the way... Even though if it did fool the folks at Forbes magazine, but... that's OK. It says what I want to say, AI or not. It's a picture that "shows" French farmers protesting in Paris. They are there, by the way - as I type - with tractors and trailers, and even sheep , lining the grand Avenues and Boulevards of the Nations capital, hosing down Government buildings with the occasional muck-spreader. When French farmers are unhappy, they

I think we like to think we know what "Encore..." means. It's one of those French-isms that has been globally exported as successfully as "joie de vivre.." and " je ne sais quoi-t-ever" . It shouts "More..." or "another round".. . One last song before the lights come up. It ’s a strong and crowd-friendly, shouty word, associated with appetite, enthusiasm and thunderous applause...

Today is a particluar kind of Sunday. It's flea market day. Not any one in particular, just one close to us. In fact there is very possibly one taking place every day of the year in France. The French "brocante" . The word itself is pretty old. It comes from the 15th century verb "brocanter" meaning to barter or trade in small goods . It's roots are a bit more practical than poetic. The things for sale, were never supposed to be rare or carry any kind of prestige. It was all

The word surrender did not always carry the white flag with which we associate its use today. It comes into English from the Old French " surrendre" - formed from sur (over) and rendre (to give back). Its Latin root, reddere , means to return, to restore, to hand back what was borrowed .

Truffles have been around since the Pharaos were in short pants. Quite why the first sandal kicked the first truffle, prompting its wearer to bend down and take a mouthful, is another story altogether. But we have been loving them ever since... King Francis I of France (let's hope he didn’t endure the challenges of rhotacism) was the first noble notable to put truffles on the royal platter. His truffly gusto was duly noted by the brilliant lawyer-turned-chef, Jean Brillat-Sav