She quoted it when she was encouraging me to explore life beyond Edinburgh as I was leaving school in the early 1970s.

It’s a line that has stayed with me ever since; all the more so as I start to immerse myself in more and more things French. Indeed, venturing beyond the tourist experience and actually connecting to real French people in their own country, on their terms, in their language, has been a much-desired dream that is now starting to feel within reach.

I have always been drawn to all things French; its history, culture, art, and politics. It’s easy to fall in love with la belle France, her peerless gastronomy, the elegance and sophistication of its people, and the seductive, pouting musicality of the language. Their titans of history: Joan of Arc, Napoleon and De Gaulle, inspire an admiration in me almost on a par with Bruce and Wallace. So how come that whenever France squeezes into our UK news cycles it’s either about riots, terrorism, or head-to-head elections to hold the ‘far right’ at bay.

In the UK we are used to American politics. We understand their arguments because we speak the same language. But when it comes to France, most of us have only the sketchiest of understandings. In this year of multiple elections, we could be forgiven for concluding that Marine Le Pen is simply a Gallic version of Trump or Farage. All three do seem to draw on a certain nostalgia for those halcyon days when everyone knew their place and we never needed to lock our doors. But of course, with each country the yearnings for bygone days are different; shaped as they have been by their respective histories and patriotic narratives.

France is a republic like no other; the most famous republic ever, established following the bloody revolution of 1789, still marked nationwide on July 14th, the day of the storming of the Bastille, the key event symbolising revolutionary struggle. Those of us with republican or leftist leanings are easily attracted to its rallying call for liberty, equality and fraternity. Its constitutional promise of equal citizenship for all “without distinction of origin, race or religion” seems like a no-brainer. But these bold statements on their own are clearly not doing the trick.

Since the Revolution there have been five very different republican models, along with two empires and one puppet state during German occupation. Today’s version is known as the Fifth Republic. It was created by De Gaulle in 1958 to stop France tearing itself apart during the Algerian war of independence. Order and stability were its goals and De Gaulle believed that the only way to do that was by creating a strong presidency; what is often referred to as a ‘Republican Monarchy’.

France’s president has much more power than the US equivalent. They appoint the prime minister, who doesn’t even need to be a politician. They can rule by decree, simply by-passing parliament altogether, like Macron’s decision to increase the retirement age from 62 to 64, or Hollande’s decision to bomb Libya in 2012, or, if they feel like it, to dissolve parliament whenever they want, as Macron did earlier this year.

France is the most centralised democracy I can think of. The French language is regulated and vigilantly policed. Shopkeepers can be prosecuted for stocking foreign products which do not have instructions in French. The Breton and Corsican languages were banned but are now quietly tolerated. Only French is recognized in matters official, governmental or judicial. There is one education curriculum the length and breadth of the country, including its overseas territories in the Caribbean and the Pacific: no exceptions, no variations, and that includes private schools too. Regulation of this single system is the responsibility of the president himself and enshrined in the constitution – “the provision of free, public and secular education at all levels, is a duty of the state”.

Their constitution opens with the words, “France is an indivisible, secular, democratic and social republic”. To re-enforce the indivisible part, the president can chop and change the boundaries of the Regions at will. Ten years ago, when Scotland and Catalonia were flexing our respective independence muscles, President Hollande felt the time was right to send a message to France’s fringe ethnicities and thwart any aspirations they may have of greater autonomy. Alsace, with a rich history and culture of its own, was wiped off the map and swallowed up into a larger conglomeration with Champagne, Ardennes, and Lorraine. Similarly, Brittany had its wealthiest area annexed and handed over to their neighbours in the Loire valley. It would be like Edinburgh and the Lothians being transferred into a new province of Northumbria at the whim of ‘President Starmer’.

Getting to know a new country, how it works and what has formed it, is a bit like getting into a new relationship. Initially, we are giddy with the obvious elements of external attraction; seduction is in the air, and France certainly exudes sex appeal.

But now, as courting days ebb away and certain deeper habits and behaviours start to emerge, maybe moving in together is not such a good idea after all. Let’s just stick to having an occasional rendezvous and enjoy the good bits without long-term commitment…

Some further reading recommendations:

Fixing France – how to repair a broken republic – by Nabilla Ramdani

The Secret life of France – by Lucy Wadham. ■