Every time I drive past the Grand Hotel–a somewhat exaggerated description– on my way to the market in Castres, I’m reminded that the building served as local Nazi headquarters from the occupation in 1942 until the Liberation in August 1944.
Liberation declaration, August 20th 1944 on the balcony of The Grand Hotel, Castres
It’s hard to believe that this pleasant market town best known today for its successful rugby team, Castres Olympique, saw German troop patrols and Maquis operations designed to disrupt them–in my lifetime.
The town did not suffer the physical destruction that London experienced in the Blitz, but living for years with the constant threat of betrayal to the occupiers and a knock at the door, leading to deportation and death, carried its own heavy psychological pressures.
We had this in mind when we made the five minute journey to Lautrec mid-afternoon yesterday to cast our votes in the European elections.
Voting for us has become a rare treat.
Losing the right in the UK after living here for fifteen years, meant not being allowed to vote in the 2016 referendum on whether to leave Europe or not–something that would affect us directly.
We felt sore about that.
We can vote in the local elections–but have to wait until we are granted French citizenship to be able to vote in a national election.
We remain (!) citizens of Europe–until the UK leaves–so found ourselves unexpectedly still eligible to vote.
Becoming a French citizen will not involve my magical transformation into the classic British stereotype of a Frenchman.
Beret-wearing, moustache-bearing, onion-selling, garlic-smelling, baguette-carrying Pierre from “over there’–I will always remain inescapably English.
But I will feel–even more than I do now–a sense of belonging.
En plus, I will be able to VOTE for the government to whom we pay our taxes.
This afternoon, one member of the four man crew engaged in cleaning “our” church is the German boyfriend of the daughter of Jean-Luc, our super-talented builder.
It is a chilling thought that this young man, 75 years ago, could easily have been a member a different four-man crew–a Nazi patrol, hunting the Maquis in the hills around Castres.
Happily for us–and for him–the European Union has been an agent for peace and the Grand Hotel operates now, as just that–a hotel, for visitors from all over the world, including Germany.
Robin Ellis 
So happy to see that you are blogging again! Can we expect some news about what your feline family members have been up to lately?!
I don’t doubt they’ll be up to something!
What beautiful words! “The EU has been an agent for peace”.
A few years ago, I met Julia Morley who told me that with her husband, she had set up the Miss World contests after the war to bring young people together.
We love watching the Eurovision Song Contest too.
greetings from Yosemite National Park at this moment, that was lovely, thank you, and for what it’s worth, we Americans are dealing with some of the same issues!
Well said Mr Ellis; We voted here yesterday as well. We are in 17, with German Bullet holes, in exterior wall. Someone shot outside our house. There is a rumour the germans tortured someone here, and buried him in the other cellar. It has been filled in with soil. There are ventilation holes at the front , full of soil. we also have a cellar at the back we use.
A constant reminder!
Robin, your words today evoke feelings of gratitude for all we have been blessed with,and most especially,for all God spared us with what might have been.
A somber reminder,to be sure.
Voting is a privilege,and I find myself more than annoyed with people who either take it for granted or neglect to do it ‘ because….(fill in the blank space)”.
Thank you for bringing this to mind!
I am in complete agreement, Natalia! I can’t imagine not voting. I write my local and national reps on a regular basis as well. Often before elections, we sit at the dinner table, going over candidates, measures, and propositions. We’re all permanent voters by mail, but I always take my ballot to a polling place
I too was proud and privileged to vote in the elections for the European Parliament in our little village in SW France. In February our mayor said to me that he hoped i’d be here on the 26th May to vote, and I said I hoped so too. Yesterday when I walked in, he greeted me with enthusiasm calling out “you’re here!”, and I found I instinctively raised my fist and said “Oui, toujours en Europe!”. In my borough in London the Lib Dems had a strong win, and I’m hoping their campaign slogan will come true!
Thank you for your very thoughtful post Robin,
Ruth
Hello and thank you, Ruth–glad you were here to vote.
Say hi! to Chris.
I enjoy the writings you post of Lautrec. Today’s writing. Although I’m almost 58. I’ve only have read about the wars. That mainly in school. But still enjoy going to the library. Going to book stores. I guess I’m old school. I like the feel of a book. The smell of a book.(I know weird). Kindles I’m not into. My dad and my uncle his brother both were in the services. My dad a marine. My uncle,Air Force. My dad passed away in 1988. His parents raised me And my sister. Being that my parents divorced when I was 5. We always called the farm our playground. But getting back to your post. I enjoy reading them. Thank you
Thank you.
In this cramped house, with no room for bookcases, I can buy few printed books anymore, with cookbooks getting priority, thus I read on my iPhone. It’s also because most of my fun-reading is done in bed, while my husband is sleeping and snoring (why I’m awake)—no lights for printed books.
I miss my walls of books.
I’m 65. Born during the Korean Police Action (not officially a war), WWII was recent history to my parents. My unlamented father served in the 8th Air Force, based in England, and in the KPA, in Japan. After that, until I was 7 or 8, we moved around the eastern edges of the US. In ‘61, he was in Okinawa for a year or so, before being stationed in Myrtle Beach.
I’m sure his brother served in WWII, as did my late beau-père and my mother’s sisters’ husbands.
Marina
Thank you for your post – refreshingly moderate in tone. It is hard indeed. I’m in the same boat but have decided not to seek Polish citizenship, hard as it is to lose EU citizenship without having any say in the matter. However, like you, I have found that I appreciate my adopted country all the more these days. Greetings to you both, Liz Turek
Thanks, Liz
Thanks for this lovely little piece. I don’t know you and am not sure how I got on this list but your story and its various details make it worthwhile.
Yours,
Charles Kalish
Pau
> WordPress.com
Thank you, Charles for your kind comment.
We were able to vote by post in the UK referendum, then surprise, surprise, just pipped in at the general election by two weeks. Now, of course, our 15 years are long up but we were pleased to vote yesterday in the Euro elections. Our Maire refused to look at our passports confirming our identity… ‘Haha! Don’t need them…see you next week at the fete…’. Made me feel I belonged somewhere after all!
Nice story, Carol.
Beautifully said, Robin
Thank you, Bob. Lovely seeing you both in NYC.
Disappointed with the result. Not a happy time for Europe with the rise of the right. However, it’s not over yet, and lets hope there’s enough people who can see a future that is not separatist, but one where everybody realises that if we all pull together, we get where we’re going faster.
Just watching an episode of World At War, narrated by Lawrence Olivier . The opening scenes are of a deserted bombed village in France that was left as a memorial to the whole population of the village where every single man,woman and child was murdered by the nazis .
I then opened your blog to see that lovely building with its war time history.
Such sadness, such horror. ….we are the lucky ones.
So odd to see a ballot box that is not opaque.
Most of my British friends will vote NO to Brexit. I read the National.scot news site, and am happy that most Scots are NO on Brexit, and an indyref2 vote might be held at the same time.
Robin, while I’d never doubt your continued “anglicity”, I live north of Gilroy, the Garlic Capitol of the World. When it’s garlic harvest time, the wonderful aroma will waft hither, if provided a cooperative wind. Better than the steer manure fertilizer odor wafting north of fields when I lived on the border of LA and San Bernardino counties in Southern California. When I was commuting past the Miller Brewery, during fermentation sessions, the wonderful heady scent of malt permeated my car for several miles. If I lived on Islay, I would be in heaven come malting time.
I did work in the same building as a software engineer who went overboard on garlic—he must have consumed at least an entire head each day. We each cooked and wrote verse, with other things in common, so I dropped by his office regularly.
That was unpleasant, but nowhere near as bad as being on a commuter bus near the guy who heavily reeked of stale tobacco smoke and booze.
Just made chicken basil pasta salad, with less pasta than non-diabetics use. I’ve been making quite a lot of sunomono since early March. After a mandoline accident, it’s back to slicing Persian cukes by hand. I can slice very thin. One quart of this quick Japanese pickle takes 3-4 pounds/just under 2 kilos.
So glad to see your posts again.
Marina, in finally wet enough California
Yes. Delighted to have your posts again. Keep ’em coming.
AS ALWAYS. THANK YOU
Wow, CREEPY when you think about the history of that building! But your line about the “Beret-wearing, moustache-bearing, onion-selling, garlic-smelling, baguette-carrying Pierre” made me laugh out loud! Berets always make me think of my Pepere…. “mon petit bonhomme!” 🙂
Great post, Robin! And of course you will remain “inescapably English”. You’ll just be inescapably English with a French/EU passport! (…still at work here on getting an Italian passport. The documentation will be complete soon and then it’s off to court.)
Hello, Chris–we are crossing fingers. Good luck with your mission too.
…great post, Robin. And of course you will remain “inescapably English”. You’ll just be inescapably English with a French/EU passport! (I am still working on the Italian/EU passport. Fingers crossed!)
The result of the referendum in this country in June 2016 was one if the saddest results of an election I have known in my lifetime I was born four years after The War ended My lovely late Dad always talked of his experiences as a young man He lost his hearing in that conflict and became totally deaf He always said Safety in numbers Brenda I have only known relative peace in my life I watch the DDay commemorations as I type What shortsightedness to vote for a split from our nearest friends and neighbours
I agree that Brexit, in my not-so-humble opinion (IMNSHO), was a short sighted concept, and to some degree, xenophobic.
I’m nae a Scot, but as an Hibernophile, I’m for IndyRef2.
Born in ‘54, WWII was always recent history in my youth. My father spoke very little of it, beyond having been in the 8th (US) Air Force, being a tail gunner in a B-24, and surviving a crash at 19 which resulted in what is now called ankylosing spondylitis.
It’s been noticed that post-war, (primarily) men who were in active battle either speak a lot, or either nothing at all, of their experiences, at least with family or non-combat friends.
Marina in the Valley of Heart’s Delight.
How is your church renovation coming? Have I missed seeing recent photos?
Always fascinating to read your posts and those from others.