Pretending to be Irish for two weeks was wearing me out but I kept it up because I feared she would boil over if she found out I was Crème anglaise. Halfway through her stay, for example, a young Dutch couple arrived for the weekend and she became territorial about the breakfast buffet. ‘Oh no, let me make you some more,’ I said, entering the breakfast room to find them sipping mint tea. When the French came back down, the Dutch were peeling themselves an orange, enjoying the peace of the sun-drenched breakfast room. How hard is it to learn that the word for merci isn’t ‘sank’ it’s ‘thank’ – th th th thank!