Change usually frightens people. I myself, am from France; a country that you can easily access via the Eurostar, so long as the staff across the pond are not enacting a strike.

No matter how dull, lonely, or repetitive peoples’ lives might be, most of them fear any radical measures which threaten to alter their everyday existence. I mentioned France, but it is not because I think that the French have a worse attitude than others when confronted to change; France is the only country, in my knowledge, where the fear of trade unionists actually prevent you from catching your tube on a Monday morning.

Invariably, when we refuse change, it arrives with invariable expediency anyway. Nothing, apart from the universal truth of this sentence, is permanent. I could prove it to you if I wanted to, but my rhetorical arguments would probably be out-of-date by the time you read them, so why bother? Moreover, climate change will have wiped us all out before you will be able to decipher any logic to my opinions.

I am not ashamed to admit that I read, like millions of others, books to help me manage change in my personal life. I also think that it is not a coincidence that the most famous life coaching book of this kind used cheese as a metaphor for everything that fades away! The author judiciously anticipated that plenty of angry Frenchmen would directly relate to a title like, ‘Who Moved My Cheese?’. Well, assez critiqué, how about we pursue our philosophical discussion on le changement.

The phrase ‘Nothing is permanent, but Change’ reminds me of other intelligently paradoxical quotes, like a (French) author who once said: ‘I am very optimistic concerning the future of pessimism’. Or, the superb Woody Allen quote when, in his hilarious opening speech to Annie Hall, he says that he would never belong to a club that would have him as a member. These last quotes may not be directly relevant to my topic, but Woody was worth mentioning, especially since he decided to shoot all of his movies in London. Oh, and Scarlett, if you read this, please call me.

I have lived in three different countries, twelve different houses and apartments, attended five different schools, and endured three different step-parents. My total number of girlfriends is subject to the kind of inflation that would leave Monsieur Brown blushing. In short, I am a veteran of change. Many amongst you have recently arrived in London, which can be an alienating experience.

My advice? When you move to a different country, persevere with the delicacies (and oddities) of the native language. Resist the temptation to post pictures of your favourite long-gone monuments on your wall. Make new friends. Don’t entertain the notion that people were nicer before.

Finally, when you meet your new stepmother, remember that nothing is permanent, but change… Au revoir.