Monday Monday

Contrary to whatever your faith may insist, God is French.  It’s also a widely misunderstood notion that He created the world in 6 days and rested on the seventh – mais non.  Clearly, France is the most beautiful, cultured country on the face of the planet. Its men the are the most virile, its women the most desirable and its cuisine unsurpassed – and obviously this took a further full day of our Lord’s time all by itself. In deference to this extra (but extremely worthwhile) celestial effort, and unlike most of continental Europe and the bulk of the world’s developed nations, Monday is, for many, a day off work.

It’s not universally so – some of the bigger city centre, out of town and village stores manage to open (many not before 10.00am, shutting promptly once again at noon for a 2 hour lunch), but almost all garages, car showrooms and furniture stores don’t. Quite how much of this is down to the rigorously enforced 35 hour week - and ruinously expensive costs of employing additional labour – is debatable, but other than our feckless minority (as in every other Western economy), most folk would welcome the opportunity to both work longer hours and enjoy a bit of retail therapy on a Monday if they so wished.

Whilst there is a touch of old world, quasi stalinist charm in the notion that the state can dictate working peoples lives to this degree, the nett effect acts as a massive drag on the France’s GDP.  But the prospect of genuine 7 day a week shopping is but a distant twinkle at the end of a long tunnel, and it ain’t going to get any closer without a fundamental change to labour laws. And don’t even think about 24 hour stores – pah! - your monsieur Tesco and his ‘customer focused ’ , reasonably priced convenience. C’est fou!