My French Life™ – Ma Vie Française®

Before I moved to France, I thought French style lived somewhere between a navy trench c...

As a lad in the Yorkshire Dales, I helped my mother bake our weekly bread. It wasn’t a chore; I loved the kneading, the rising dough in a big bowl by the open fire, and the hollow sound of a done loaf when my knuckle tapped its bottom. It was wholesome, nourishing, humble, nothing exceptional. So, one of the surprises about France is how sacred the baguette is!

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This week “16.41.a - Hang On. Why Is That?

Feature: Look What You Started: a peek behind the scenes at my desk.

This week’s ‘What’s happening in ‘

It’s wonderful ...