Making merry in the month of May

Date: 08/05/1997

Mayday! Mayday! This is a mayday call to the European Commission, but there is no reply.

Nor is there likely to be until June, because everyone who is anyone has gone away in this miserable skeleton of a month which, if its operational parts were averaged out across the year, would render the 48-hour maximum working week rule redundant.

Mayday! Mayday! Still no reply.

I am making this mayday call to the Commission to make enquiries in connection with my research into the origins of the 'bridge'.

This is an easily portable structure which Eurocrats are given when they join the service. They keep it folded away behind their desks and bring it out at this time of year to help them safely across those irritating little working days which so inconveniently fall between a May bank holiday and the weekend.

When those bridges are lowered and thousands scurry across to the haven on the other side, the work ethic gets crushed beneath the weight.

And my, with what dexterity the bridge is wielded in this very merry month of May, peppered as it is with isolated outbreaks of non-working days.

This could never happen in the United States, of course. In the US, no faithful employee worth his salary would dream of taking time off. “Are we closed this weekend, sir? Oh no! Does that mean I can't come in until Monday? Oh my gosh, that's awful!”

For where Europe and the United States differ most is in the annual holiday psychology.

In the US, anyone who wants to take more than two weeks off at a time is a disloyal shirker, a wastrel whose only thoughts are for family and personal convenience. In Europe, they think you are mad if you don't crave at least four consecutive weeks of indolence in the summertime.

These endless May holidays drive the Americans mad - and not just May, of course, because in the Commission, whenever a leisure break threatens, the bridge is oiled and made ready for crossing.

Take Easter, for instance. Just before last month's Easter break, a European Voice reporter with a thirst for news rang the Commission and spoke to someone who normally could have been expected to help him with his inquiries.

Not this time. “I'm sorry, I can't help you - we are closed tomorrow,” came the reply.

That's okay, said the reporter, because I'm looking for some information today.

“Ah yes, well, that would normally be fine, but you see tomorrow we are closed...”

And so it went on. There was no breaking the circle. In the background, our intrepid investigator thought he could hear the scraping sound of a bridge being tugged out from beneath the prefab desk.

Mayday! Mayday! Is there anybody there? Not yet.

It's going to be like this for the whole month, of course, with May Day itself last week followed by this week's Ascension Day and Robert Schuman Remembrance Day (as if one could forget).

And then, who knows? Jacques Delors Day, Jean Monnet Day and, of course, Santerday which is already a day of rest, swiftly followed by Sunday.

Now this is all fine and dandy, but for those with a job to be getting on with, and no fold-flat bridge tucked under the desk, life can get a little tricky at this time of year - so much so that the fact that there is a newspaper wrapped around these words this week is a minor modern miracle of journalistic enterprise.

Mayday! Mayday! The phone rings on and on unanswered, but they will not make me give up.

The question I want to ask is: just whose holidays does the Commission follow anyway? Belgium's because it is in Belgium, or everyone's because it is an oasis of 15-way multinationalism?

Last week, everyone downed tools because it was holiday time in Belgium, Germany, France and Italy. But this Monday was a bank holiday in the UK and yet the Commission carried on working.

Surely it would be more effective if the Commission, the Council of Ministers and the European Parliament adopted the German model of staggered holidays, something it could manage very well by allowing its workers to take the bank holidays applicable in their member state of origin.

And don't tell me there is no precedent for taking account of national traits. After all, what happens on 11 November? Most of Europe shuts down to mark Armistice Day, commemorating the end of World War I, but the Commission carries on, pretending everything is normal to avoid upsetting German sensibilities.

Presumably all talk of defeat, peace and celebration is banned in the Commission on 11 November as everyone bustles about on the one day of the year apart from Christmas when nearly everybody else in Europe is united in putting their feet up.

Mayday! Mayday! Will someone answer this phone please?

I was hoping by now to bring you an official Commission response to this idea of staggered bank holidays, but, as you will have gathered, the only staggering thing is the fact that no one is in the office.

Mayday! Mayday! Where are you all? Sitting in a traffic jam somewhere between here and Blankenberge, probably, while the wheels of Euro-bureaucracy grind to a halt.

It used to be like this for the whole of August back in the heady days when everyone, from captains of industry to politicos and civil servants, recognised that total shut down was the only approach.

Times have changed, however, and it is no longer acceptable to evacuate places like the Commission for a whole month and leave the keys with the caretaker if you want to be treated seriously on the world stage.

It was the now familiar annual fixture of the transatlantic trade war which broke the mould: some time in the Eighties it became clear that, with a packed agenda during the rest of the year, the only time for a good old-fashioned trade stand-off between Washington and Brussels was August.

After all, all those Ivy Leaguers who refuse to take any holiday in case they lose brownie points had to have something to do.

These days, one has to assume that the world never stops turning and it can only be a matter of time before we have the non-stop Euro Commission, open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year.

It would certainly be impressive public relations-wise and I will suggest it just as soon as I can get through to someone.

Mayday! Mayday! Is there anybody there?