Our first taste of Britany was from an Aire de Service in Batz Sur Mer, overlooking a jagged line of pale rocks bitting into the sea. A local had squeezed himself above the waves to sound out his bagpipe in the golden evening light. A group of friends was playing petanque right there on there on the path, in front of picniquers drinking their third aperitif. It was so picture perfect that I kept waiting for a voice to shout "cut" and for a camera crew to come ou...

Forget French cooking, perfums and fashion, the real French art is the art of queuing. You can go from sitting in long traffic jams at three round abouts ending a freeway, to waiting at the unique cash register of a busy grocery store, from standing in line at the showers in crowded camping, to waiting, stuck between markets in cute villages. They queue with a smile, a sense of humour, or they just jump the queue without fuss or a backward glance. The traffic ja...