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.
6 comments:
Fame at last!
Dear Dumdad, I, I, I think you will note from the headline on the post that it has not at all gone to my, my, my head.
Hey! That's neat! And I totally agree with it that your blog is great!
Thank you kindly, Nicol.
I checked it out. And I totally agree! Bravo....
Thanks Mignon.
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