KEY POINTS:
Monsieur Fernando loves England. Apart from the prices, which are "too expensive". And the weather is "too cold" for a man more accustomed to the warmer climes of France. Also, now that he thinks about it, the bread over here is pretty rubbish as well.
"I grew up
in Paris and there the baguettes are tall and light," he says, his eyes shining nostalgically. "Here, I get a baguette from Tesco and it is very, very heavy. I'm sorry, but the food here is awful."
He falls into a reflective silence. "Otherwise, life in England is good."
Shammi Fernando is the 22-year-old store supervisor in Monceau Fleurs, South Kensington, London. It is the first UK branch of a French-owned chain of 125 flower shops. Among the sweet pea bunches and potted orchids, there are shelves of Savon de Provence for sale. Nearby, you can eat steak frites at Rotisserie Jules, washed down with a chocolat chaud in the Mona Lisa Cafe.
This is an area locally known as Frog Alley, one of an increasing number of Gallic outposts on this side of the Channel that have sprouted up to cater for an estimated 300,000 French expatriates. For, on the eve of President Nicolas Sarkozy's state visit, and despite London's pitiful lack of dough-based finesse, terrible teeth and centuries-long history of mutual loathing, it seems that the French are in the grip of a fervent love affair with Britain.
Driven from their homeland by a stagnant job market, restrictive economic policies and a President who jogs in public, the French have cottoned on that life can be sweet in someone else's country - particularly one with tax breaks and an international schooling system.
The number of French people living in Britain has risen every year since 1991, jumping by almost 10,000 in 2006, the biggest gain in two decades.
Approximately two-thirds of them live in London, but there are thriving French communities across the country. "I don't think I'll ever go back to France," says Pascal Meril, 40, a Brittany-born private chef who has been based in Newport, South Wales, for the past four years. "For me, this is where the heart is. There is no 35-hour working week, no restrictions and the people are much more friendly."
In the run-up to his election last May, Sarkozy became the first Presidential candidate to campaign in the UK, attempting to woo back voters with promises of a new meritocracy and free-market initiatives. But now, with his reputation tainted and his proposed reforms bogged down by the perennially striking malcontents, many of the emigres have become disillusioned with their homeland.
As Sarkozy returns to Britain for his state visit tomorrow, it seems that not even the fragrant Carla Bruni will be able to win them over.
"He promised lots of things last time and asked us to come back to France, but at the end of the day they are just empty promises," says Eric Rousseau, 36-year-old owner of Belle Epoque patisserie in Stoke Newington, north London. "Once he was in power, he was just like the other crooks and forgot it all. He's a showman, hungry for power. His personal life makes him look like a guignol [a fool]. I will never go back to France because I'm much better off here."
Despite Sarkozy cutting taxes by ¬9 billion ($17.5 billion), the red tape involved in setting up a business can be stifling. When President George W. Bush reportedly said six years ago that "the problem with the French is that they don't have a word for entrepreneur", it was a philosophy Rousseau (Eric that is) could wholeheartedly relate to.
"I find the UK is much more proactive in developing businesses," he says. "You just walk into an accountant's office, give him £100 and half an hour later you walk out as the managing director of a company. In France, you would have to be trained for three months by a special organisation. The red tape makes it much harder and the tax rate is higher, so it is difficult to survive."
Another benefit is that his 4-year-old son Jacques can be schooled in the French system. The prestigious L'Ile aux Enfants primary is nearby and acts as a feeder school for the Lycee Francais Charles de Gaulle in South Kensington, an institution so oversubscribed that even Madonna struggled to get her daughter Lourdes on to the waiting list.
"As parents of a 20-month-old daughter, it's true that having the Lycee on your doorstep is a huge advantage," says Philippe Leconte, 33, a banker who moved to London from Paris five years ago with his wife. "It's highly academic. It's not that I think the English system is worse, but I have been through the French system myself and know how it works, so I can give better advice."
But despite their seemingly rampant Anglophilia, there are still some things the French miss - a good steak tartare, for instance, or the chance to cheer on their rugby team without being shouted down as "cheese-eating surrender monkeys".
"That comes up a lot," sighs Leconte. "But it is the English sense of humour."
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