On Violette FR and Being French

Boum boum boum lemme hear you say EY-YO

by Claire

I’ve been thinking about my own Frenchness lately. My mum is French, and my dad is English. I grew up in London, and was educated entirely in French, at first in an independent day school in Brondesbury (that is now an Islamic Sixth Form owned I think by Cat Stevens?!). I was then sent to the French Lycee in South Kensington, an absolutely enormous private school that sees something like 4000 students through from Kindergarten to Baccalaureate. There were 11 classes in each year group, three playgrounds, and three separate lunch queues which led to three very French lunch buffets. There was a starter, a main, a dessert and a selection of cheese EVERY DAY. We had things like Morrocan tagine, stuffed endives, and creme caramel. I went to school with the the Prince of Jordan, the Senegalese ambassador’s son (until they were transferred to Tokyo), minor Italian royalty and last but not least, Lourdes Ciccone. I’m trying to paint a picture here of how extremely unusual my school environment was, and therefore how esoteric my entire childhood now feels. When you meet someone who went to the Lycee, it’s like you’ve both experienced alien abduction.