I do love a good stereotype. I was watching the film Flushed Away with La Fille (who calls it the "Eeek Eeek film"). Baddie The Toad calls in his cousin Le Frog and half a dozen French henchmen to help with his dastardly plan to wipe out all the mice. Le Frog takes a mouthful of British wine and spits it out in disgust. He listens to the plan and says: "Right men, we leave immediately." A little French henchman voice pipes up: "Errr boss, what abaht lunch?" Le Frog replies: "OK, we leave in five hours." Laugh, I nearly changed the audio to see what Le Frog says the French version. (I did this with a Shrek film and I swear the unctuous French Robin Hood sounded Italian.) I was still chuckling when I recounted the Frog joke to the Frenchman. "Oui, et alors?" he said in his best so-what voice.
The move to France was only supposed to be for a couple of years, not forever. Then I met The Frenchman. Then I had La Fille. Now there's no way back. But La Fille, to whom a horse is a cheval and a frog is just pond life is still half English. So before the Gallic nation claims her for its own, sprinkles her with garlic, sautés her and swallows her up whole we make regular escapes on the Eurostar. And we have discovered the grass is various shades of green either side of the Channel.