The first time it happened I surprised myself by my involuntary intake of breath.

I'd obviously become too used, in my recently departed country, to the new Puritan society forced upon us, by both law and intolerance.

And therefore, something I'd always agreed with, was now slightly shocking because it was such a rare sight.

Actually, not shocking as such, more a quick look around to see if anyone else had clocked it.

Only the holidaying Brits in the restaurant looked on in tut-tutting disapproval; faces reddening in impotent anger that they couldn't make their feelings known out loud.

The mother, who'd unknowingly provoked all this, continued her meal, the child now beside her, head down, doing the same.

Until she'd pulled him back and administered a short, sharp slap on the back of his legs...he'd been irritating all and sundry; running around the place, arms airplane extended, bumping into waiters and risking the scald of an upturned soup bowl.

I'd watched him, already unused to seeing French children allowed, or desiring, such licence. Aged about five, he'd been repeatedly called back to the table where other children, his grandparents and mother and father sat over their already lengthy lunch.

Each time he squirmed away. Until the quick and controlled slap. Nothing more needed to be said. He had crossed the line, been given the final chastisement when words failed, and he knew the game was over.

After that I thought nothing when I saw similar scenes repeated in restaurants, shops or supermarkets. It was always the same action - controlled, fast and back of the legs.

In fact, inwardly, I cheered. I'd always done it myself with my own defiant child.

Even more so when I saw the holidaying Battersea mummies with their darling, screaming broods, hyperventilate at such gross cruelty.

In the main the French do not 'do' unruly children and especially not in the vast rural areas where raising children is on a par with good animal husbandry.

Now, following a complaint from a British, yes British, child protection charity, Approach, the French government has been given a slap on the wrist for not banning the smacking of children.

(Well, obviously not a slap on the wrist - too, too cruel my dears.)

The Strasbourg based Council of Europe has deemed France's laws on corporal punishment for children not 'sufficiently, clear, binding or precise.'

The French Government has already made it clear it doesn't give a toss what the Council of Europe think, so really it is meaningless.

You know, these are the moments I truly love the French.

The Government's spokesmen and numerous organisations have pointed out that there is a huge difference between abuse and discipline.

The penal code is already in place for abusive parents. The ban is already in place against corporal punishment in schools and disciplinary establishments.

There is no intention to take it into the home.

"What comes next?" asked one politician.

"Are we going to be told how to stack our plates, whether children should be made to dry up and whether they can help their parents with the chores?"

Well, you could argue that such things have been, and are already are being, promulgated in - sigh - more enlightened countries.

Sadly, political correctness (hate those words but they serve) is creeping into our moody, difficult country.

We don't quite have a Mumsnet here, thank God; where life and angst is so child-centered parents forget they are the ones in control.

But we do have the spread of magazines and TV programmes aping 'good' parenthood.

Well, as perceived in the US and the UK.

Inevitably, many of the French are questioning their rigid belief that children need firm controls and to know their place - bottom rung - in the family.

Of course with no child to experience it directly, I cannot write authoritively on how major this volte-face is.

I can only observe and report on my limited experience in la France Profonde and my reading of the lifestyle sections in the metropolitan newspapers.

So, now more open to the world, the French are questioning their education system, their insistence on children unseen and unheard, and even their demand on family meals and no snacking between them.

Perhaps it's my age but I want to shriek: Non, non.

My son is now 32, and I fought, even then, a rearguard action against the 'new ways.'

Why must you bring your babies/children/ to my dinner parties? Why should I have them sharing a sofa with me at 9pm and listen to their overtired, boring burblings?

Did I, do I, care to see them in their tiaras and tutus 'entertaining' me when all I wanted/want was a vin and adult chat?

Every time I return to the UK - usually London - I gawp afresh at the parents discussing what bloody bread a six-year-old brat wants with some ludicrous filling.

Inwardly fume hearing them, loudly, give fiends multiple food and water choices as they thrash around my table.

And when, obviously scrambled by the choices, the beloved throws a full tantrum and mummy and daddy 'talk them down'....I want to yell: Take control. Now.

So far, governmentally approved, French parents are in control.

Please, please, never change.