France

The trouble with history is that it is topiary. History is what’s left after the unwanted foliage has been clipped and cleared away. The topiary birds, pigs and pyramids are just yew bushes minus the clippings, these forms having emerged from the topiarist’s shears. Your yew-based pig is a product of selective disposal, even down to its curly tail. Likewise with a historian’s shears. The raw material may be facts (in the words of the 19th-century German historiographer Leopold von Ranke, ‘what actually happened’) but the history book’s account, the shape and meaning we give to an era, relies as much on the happenings we choose to discard as on those we decide to notice. In like manner, Ancient Greek astronomers conjured up fantastical constellations by topiarising the stars.

It gives me no pleasure to say I told you so. ‘If [Donald Trump] is prepared to cause mayhem in global trade as his first move, he’s even more dangerous than his detractors thought,’ I wrote in February. ‘British commentators of the “Why can’t we have visionary maverick musclemen like Trump?” persuasion should be careful what they wish for.’ And in November, ahead of the presidential election, I wrote that gold could have ‘more upside ahead’ while bitcoin holders would be wise to take profits – advice that looked wildly wrong in December but finally came right with gold at an all-time high and the cryptocurrency suffering its worst first quarter for a decade.

It is the early 9th century. Peace reigns in a small French village as they prepare for a wedding. Garlands are being hung, sheep are being shepherded, all is sunshine and smiles. Then, in a snap, this bucolic bliss bursts as Viking warriors invade the scene and unleash hell. The original Puy du Fou is unashamedly pro-God, pro-monarchy and Vive la France A longboat splashes down a chute into the river, another spectacularly emerges from beneath the lake; swords clash, fires erupt, women are carried off and treasures seized. The villagers need a miracle, and it comes with the sudden appearance of a bishop, the blessed St Philibert.

Occitanie, France In France, burning cars is practically a national sport. Almost 1,000 were set on fire on New Year’s Eve, the annual festival of vehicle incineration. Brand specificity has not traditionally concerned the anarchists, but as Elon Musk has emerged as Donald Trump’s favourite apprentice, Teslas have become the target for left-wing mobs. Tesla owners like me are nervous.  At the Tesla centre in Toulouse a dozen cars, worth €700,000 in total, were destroyed The Tesla centre in Toulouse, where I picked up my own Model Y car in more innocent days, was stormed this month by the previously unheard-of Information Anti- Autoritaire Toulouse et Alentours. A dozen cars, worth a total of €700,000, were destroyed.

Reach for the pastis, Jacques. A law is making its way through the French parliament to relax alcohol licensing, to make it easier to open bars and cafes in French towns and villages. French politicians are desperate to try anything to stimulate commerce in villages that are dying, the life sucked out of them by shopping centres with everything just five minutes away in the car. That more bars will be helpful is likely to be wishful thinking. The days when the Café de la Paix was at the centre of village life are long passé. It is easy to over-sentimentalise the role of the café in France’s 40,000 small towns. Even the coffee was mostly terrible.