For those who were shocked and confused...I have made a couple of changes to the post below because a paragraph I wrote as a joke was open to a very unfortunate and misleading interpretation. Sorry. Please do not all rush to book a room in the hotel opposite...I can assure you that the Frenchman is not in the habit of dancing semi-naked in front of our living room window, or anywhere else to my knowledge!
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.