National stereotypes are great fun if deployed only in fun, and try as I might I can't shift them. For example, as I was walking around the centre of Troyes early yesterday morning I came across a little scruffy old guy shuffling along in shabby clothes, wearing what looked like old-style NHS specs, with a few teeth missing and a distant, ill-focused but nonetheless intense look on his face.
If I'd been in Britain I'd have assumed he was an alcoholic. As it was France, I assumed he was a philosopher. Thus are histories made, told and digested.
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