It's already going all Pete Tong (wrong). Dutch Bird and her husband (the French farmer) are coming around for dinner , and Neil and I have already consumed far too much alcohol to be providing a decent meal and entertainment.
Neil invited them over with the idea of having an entirely 'French speaking' evening. I always try to speak to DB's hubby in French, as I feel that she befriends an awful lot of Brits (probably because we all buy property with land that she can then graze her horses on when we realise that we can't possibly manage it properly) who make no effort whatsoever (or at best very little) to converse with him in his own language in his own house. That may be an unfair critique but I fear not.
It's now the morning after, and I have to say the evening went incredibly well - I even learnt a couple of French phrases that I will have to ask my teacher about (luckily she is very broad minded) .