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2003 Bristol Onion Sellers

Bild von brizzle born and bred
When it comes to vegetables, no one knows their onions like the folk from Brittany. And nothing, many would add, can beat the taste of a real Breton onion. So if you want to buy some you’re in luck, because Fancois Seite the third generation of so called "Johnny Onions" is back in Clifton selling his famous wares from the handle-bars of his old French bike.
Before the Second World War up to 1,500 cycling onion sellers could be found up and down the country – even as far as Orkney and Shetland – loaded down with strings of the pungent red bulbs called Lard de Roscoff.
The Johnnies had been coming over here from Britanny since 1828, landing at Plymouth and then making their way inland between July and December, peddling their wares as they went.
For many decades they were the only Frenchmen that the average Briton ever met and their Breton beret and stripped jumper soon became a stereotype for the French race.
They would sleep in rented barns, string their onions and then walk or cycle around the country selling them to busy housewives. The British called them Johnny for "little Jean" and the name stuck.
The tradition dwindled as competition increased in the 1950s but there are still about 20 farmers in the Roscoff area who are prepared to travel to Britain to sell their onions.
The president of the Onion Johnnies Association (no, its not a joke) Pascal Creach said: "The British recognise the quality of our pink onion. We are much less known in France."
In fact most French people are flummoxed or amused by the British idea of the cycling Frenchman and his onions, and Roscoff farmers have no real place in the French psyche.
Now, however, they have their own £120,000 museum at Roscoff devoted to its history and events such as bike races with a full load of onions – and onion soup suppers have already taken place this summer.
Pascal had this to say. "We haven’t used the Johnnies image properly, so it is time we did to sell ourselves".
The onion sellers were always the poorest sort of the farm workers but now they are being pushed to the forefront with pride. The Mayor even plans to create a Brotherhood of Onion Johnnies!
One of the last of the cycling Johnnies is Francios Seite, who is now 63 years old.
His family have been bringing their onions to Bristol for three generations.
It started with Eugene, who was the onion seller to people in the Clifton and Westbury-on-Trym area where he built up a trade and many friendships over the years.
He died in 1989 but his son Guillaume, although well into his 80s, carried on the tradition.
He had been coming to the area with his father since he was just 12 years old and brought his son Francios with him in turn.
He comes back to Britain twice a year for short trips, now driving a van but keeping his bicycle in the back to keep up appearances.
After 50 years of selling onions around Bristol he is enthusiastic about the revival of the Johnnies.
"It’s old times coming back, just before the tradition dies for good," he says in his excellent English but with a slight West Country accent.
The story told in the museum at Roscoff is of canny Breton Henri Olivier, who in 1828, charted a sailing barge, loaded it with vegetables, including those famous onions, and sailed for England.
He returned home with an empty barge but with pockets full of money.
Obviously this was the market to go for and the Frenchmen kept on coming.
The 1930s were the onion men’s golden age. Teams of up to 50 worked together under the leadership of a master seller. Each team had to swear to behave, and not to fight or get drunk.
Then onions were tied together in strings with rushes. There was a skill to it and the best binders could make the strings look attractive, symmetrical and solid – but without using too many onions.
The sellers travelled cheaply in the holds of cargo ships, sleeping on their onion sacks.
They didn’t actually get paid until they returned home, but skffied binders got tobacco and two pints of beer a day as well as then- wages.
Once in England they lived like tramps.
They stayed anywhere they could find, such as barns, sheds and derelict houses.
At first the onions were carried on sticks over their shoulders, then came bikes, which could carry up to 100 kilos and finally cars and vans.
It could he harsh and miserable for the sellers in the old days. There were tales of Breton children bursting into tears on demand if any housewife should refuse their wares.
They had one phrase that they used constantly: "Want you onions, Missus?" but it got them by. . Unlike tinkers or gipsies they were welcomed with affection by the people in the towns and villages they visited.
Let’s hope the tradition continues. It’s one of the things that brings a bit of colour into our lives and we can all do with some of that.
Do you remember the "French Onion Sellers" on their push bikes going around the houses selling onions?
Greenpeace-Aktivisten bei VW

Bild von GuenterHH
Am 7. Juli 2011 verteilten Greenpeace-Aktivisten in Wolfsburg an zwei VW-Mitarbeiter-Zugängen Flugblätter, um auf die „dunkle Seite“ des Volkswagen-Konzerns aufmerksam zu machen. Weitere Infos unter: www.vwdarkside.com, blog.greenpeace.de/blog/2011/07/07/die-rebellion-in-wolfs… und www.greenpeace.de/themen/klima/nachrichten/artikel/greenp…
Greenpeace-Aktivisten bei VW

Bild von GuenterHH
Am 7. Juli 2011 verteilten Greenpeace-Aktivisten in Wolfsburg an zwei VW-Mitarbeiter-Zugängen Flugblätter, um auf die „dunkle Seite“ des Volkswagen-Konzerns aufmerksam zu machen. Weitere Infos unter: www.vwdarkside.com, blog.greenpeace.de/blog/2011/07/07/die-rebellion-in-wolfs… und www.greenpeace.de/themen/klima/nachrichten/artikel/greenp…