Le Franco Phoney

Years after moving to France, I still find French roundabouts intriguing. Why? Because of the crazy drivers? No. The way that two lanes usually go into a single-lane roundabout? No. It’s the style of French roundabouts that I love: they’re often ornate, or at least interesting in some way. The town of Bonneville (not so bonne despite its name) has hedges shaped like pyramids, while grapes adorn roundabouts in some wine regions, and I once saw a series of cows on bikes on roundabouts in a town that the Tour de France bike race was heading towards.

So it makes me happy that the roundabout in St. Jean de Sixt (pictured), down the road from my house, is back to having mannequins dumped on it. It’s been void of activity for around three months, and I had feared the mannequins may never return to their usual familial scenes, such as Father Christmas on the roof of the hut at Christmas time, an egg hunt scene at Easter time, and a party on the roundabout, involving ring-in mannequins, empty bottles of wine, fake cheese, and wine glasses, during local festivals. Look: there’s even a little baby hiding in the picture.