The fascinating story of the "onion Johnnies" and a visit to Roscoff

We've just had a relaxing few days over in Roscoff, a ferry journey from Plymouth across the English Channel.

For me the highlight of the visit - apart from some excellent food - was a visit to the "Maison des Johnnies". This is a building a few streets back from the quay which chronicles the lives of the "onion Johnnies" who still come from Brittany in France to sell onions door to door in Great Britain.

It isn't a museum because the trade still continues with about 20 Bretons still working in the UK.

Like many English people I assumed that the onion Johnnies were from anywhere in France and sold any sort of onion. Not so.

The trade began in the late 1820s when the first Bretons arrived in Plymouth to sell their produce. In fact the story has much in common with many of the issues of contemporary European agriculture.

The Bretons could have simply continued trying to sell their produce locally or in the overcrowded French market. Instead they created a unique distribution system and a good quality, long lasting, product.

The distribution system meant that each year up to 1500 men, mainly from the small fishing and market town of Roscoff would spend up to ten months each year pedalling a cycle around a defined area of England asking "Onions, do you want some onions". This must have been hard for the men and their families but at least it added value to local farm produce.

The distinctiveness of their product quickly became recognised by the British housewife. The "rose onions" from the particular soil around Roscoff were especially sweet flavoured, a flavour that could not be bought from the English high street greengrocer.

Finally tying the onions into tresses or strings meant that less oxygen passed into the bulb enabling each onion to remain fresh and usable for many months.

A video had the Johnnies speak of their work. One remarked that the English thought of them as French, "but they didn't realise that we were not French, we were Bretons".

All in all a fascinating story a piece of British life that many of us hardly noticed, perhaps even taking for granted the French onion seller peddling from street to street.

I must warn Anglophones that the talk was in French though the guide spoke good English and may make allowances as appropriate (I was the only non Francophone present and the family provided interpretation). A family ticket cost 10 Euros, which I though was good value.

Talking of costs, anyone going to the Eurozone should be aware that the £ and the Euro are almost at parity when it comes to the tourist exchange rates. We found we had to be careful with the money as it disappeared very quickly.

All the more reason to choose your eating places very carefully. Many of the restaurants in Roscoff specialise in seafood and seek to provide a gastronomic experience. They also tend to be expensive. We found two very family friendly places - the Pizzeria Marie Stuart and our favourite the Creperie de la Poste. Both were comparatively inexpensive.

The Creperie does more than crepes and I certainly enjoyed my steak and frittes which I needed after surviving on inexpensive sandwiches throughout the day!

Now there was just one jarring note for us Brits. The Union Flag flying over the entrance of the Talabadon Hotel where we stayed was upside down! Naturally I told the management ( and naturally the rest of the family disappeared with embarrassment as I complained in broken French).

They said it happened all the time. Apparently Brits walk in off the street and point out that the flag is upside down. I tried to explain that it was a sign of distress and that no British hotel would ever dream of flying the French flag upside down. The Union Jack was still upside down when we left two days later.

We arrived on a Monday morning so had little opportunity to look at the religious side of things. The town is dominated by a huge Catholic Church the interior of which is dominated in turn by a completely out of proportion and gaudy alter area.

Just round the corner is a tiny Baptist church that was founded by two Welshmen in the 1920s. During the summer we understand it is used each Sunday as a visiting cleric stays in the accommodation at the back, when we were there nearly twenty years ago it was the turn of a French army chaplain and his family. For the rest of the year there are morning services on the third Sunday of each month provided in conjunction with the Baptist Church in nearby Morlaix.

One final point: if you want a free drink on the French gambling industry go to Le Jardin Exotic. As part of a promotion adult tickets to Le Jardin include a free drink at the nearby Casino. All the other visitors looked like very intense botanists so us good Methodists decided to take advantage of the offer. We had to show our passports, were disappointed that the drinks on offer were very limited, took a good look at the roulette table and spent not a penny. Evenso we left, like many who leave casinos, a little disappointed. The whole place seemed so sleazy.