Garlic & Pearls

Monocles and canes at the ready! Muriel traces the 19th-century origins of a familiar and somewhat raffish figure of Frenchness. Part boulevardier, part dandy, part poet, the flâneur is a leisurely observer of the urban landscape. But where did he come from? What is his legacy? And can there be such a thing as a British flâneur?

Suzanne explores the British adoration of the yellow, trumpet-like, optimistic daffodil, the harbinger of spring. The evocative words of William and Dorothy Wordsworth, poetry and prose, bracket this episode, in which we discover that daffodils are also about economics. The UK cultivates 90% of the global daffodil supply. The numbers are staggering: hundreds of millions of flowers are grown annually and must all be harvested by hand. But how? We also meet a bunch of Victorian daffodil obsessives, from Scottish enthusiast Peter Barr, whose quest for seeds took him, astride a donkey, all over the Pyrenees, where he was mistaken for a bandit; Reverend George Herbert Engleheart, clergyman and father of the modern daffodil; and Quaker plantswoman Sarah Backhouse – aka 'The Genius' – who turned daffodils pink!

Café waiters are omnipresent in French life and in French culture as a sort of regiment – serried ranks of men in their black-and-white uniform with tremendous esprit de corps. But who are they really, Muriel asks, and how did they become such stock figures of Frenchness, and even objects of study for French philosophy? What makes a good café waiter? Is it to do with natural ability, physical fitness, French reserve, or the joys of performance? What is the etiquette of interacting with a café waiter? And what are the rules of the traditional café waiters race?

How to solve a problem like the British weather? It's easy if you invent the right British garment with a French name, whose origins and evolution Suzanne unveils: it's a story of ancient hooded spirits, anoraks, Royal Marines, the great outdoors, textile manufacturing, fashion and practicality, and – in a surprising twist – anti-Republican conspiracies in 1930s France.

Muriel unravels the reasons why so many film villains happen to be French. From dissolute sophisticates to duplicitous manipulators and downright sadistic megalomaniacs, what do these colourful imaginary French figures tell us about Frenchness?

Suzanne explores a masterpiece which is 'like being knocked out' – a cri de coeur about downtrodden youth, devastating tragedy and the tyranny of class. But Ken Loach's Kes is also a dream of escape, wondrous lyrical beauty and the call of the wild. And what of A Kestrel for a Knave, the film's source novel, and its revered author Barry Hines? What do they tell us about how a story rooted in South Yorkshire working-class experience, once told in print and film, gave a whole community their voice and also reached universal resonance?