Imagine my absolute horror when back in the old commune, the maire at the time was hosting a reception for us on council and a visiting town twinning group of around 30 people from Ireland plus the other commune who was sharing the twinning with ours and I was asked to stand in front of everyone and literally translate both ways. Now, at that time my French was OK but not to a translation standard so basically I just winged it by making it seem sensible to both sides but that was a real thrown into the lion’s den I can tell you.
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LOL, yes, but I don’t live in the out back like Miky Potts, being bilingual / cultural certainly helps.
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Oh man!..I’ll have you know that we have running water…albeit through the roof, and and…an abundant supply of goat and donkey manure…and and a selection of very industrial tractor fixing spanners, portable steam driven generator and all within a short drive to Montpellier. …or a few days with said donkey 
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I think this is another SFism to add to my list (entry 1 was persistently answering a different question to the one asked!): assuming my experience is universal, and there must be something wrong with people if they don’t share my experience.
You and I found that, where we each live, French people don’t in general invite people to their houses (though we have, through church, eaten at lots of French people’s houses, though that’s hardly of general application!). Other people find something quite different.
I can think of at least half a dozen factors which would make a difference, including level of education, exposure to foreigners, social factors, … and which would make obvious that there could be no such thing as a general expectation.
Ah well!
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Now I’m jealous
I’m glad. 
…
Exactly. Effectively, we have no neighbours - deliberately so. Our nearest is two fields away, hunt dogs kept in cages, howling in their frustration. The next closest is on the other side of the valley. He has a bio smallholding, works all hours. He had a Great Dane who used to prefer our land to his own. As we had two dogs who tried to defend their territory things used to get ugly. The GD had me on the ground, in a muddy field and ripped the dressing gown I was wearing as I tried to persuade him home. The smallholder couldn’t understand why I had a problem with him and his dog. The other “neighbour” is up the hill behind us. Portuguese extraction, very suspicious of us. It’s taken years to get the wife to smile and say “bonjour” and no Stella, I could not take her a cake, she would think I was trying to poison her.
I’m not sure how one “integrates” in such an environment. 
But it isn’t why we chose here. It was for the tranquillity, beautiful scenery, ridiculously large farmhouse over 300 years old and old farm cottage, now a lovely gite. That has been our joy for 20 years, but not for the future.
Our closest French friends live in town. She was the English teacher in the local school and we had lessons with her to learn French. The town is built up around agriculture and I’m sure our lovely teacher feels she is a cut above the Moroccans, Portuguese and Spanish who work the fields and are her neighbours in her lotissment. If we meet her in Leclercs, she always makes a point of speaking in English - just so people know who she is.
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I am not good at languages , and despite 3 years of second level school extremely poor at French . Much better at things that seemed like Sciences . There was a requirement to attend university to have a third language back in the day , so I opted for Latin which I could approach like a maths equation. My wife and Children were much better . I do however have or had a large vocabulary of French nouns ,.so surviving in France very possible. Telephone conversations would totally defeat me , but face to face or even reading newspapers ..I get the point.
Now this is not about me but my neighbours in the village in France ..When we arrived 27 years ago, there was an older couple across the road ..Jeannine and her husband Armand and their invalid son. I will say that they were very good neighbours . Arnand would come across and hand me a hedge tools if he saw me struggling, and Jeannine would drop cabbages and courgettes at random. Neither had any English , but Jeannine had been a teaching assistant in the junior school and had a very easy French. Armand being older was more colloquial and almost impossible to follow . I think we had a meal in their house on some occasion .we were certainly shown around . Their son did have more English and made conversation possible when I would be looking for a words. On one occasion we had lost electrical power ..The EDF cables had come adrift on the gable, and it needed Theiry to complete the phone call and get a team out. We would have exchanged Christmas cards until after both had died . Theiry is getting what is obviously excellent home care from the health system . By this stage Theiry would be in his 60s and confined to his room.
The neighbours on our left very different . First they would have been somewhat younger and while Michael was a village boy , he was a teacher in Paris , and they treat the family home as a second house. Every year we share hedge side conversations ..mostly in French and we get an invite to a soiree at least once . We bring the best from the local patisserie and they open a bottle of a sparking wine and we share photographs and how family is progressing . We would have seen their adult and divorced children as teenagers etc and now they are grandparents . None of this is deep ,or Sartre Philosophical , but it is pleasant.
The also have had a tiny fragile network of Irish / English people we could meet and it would not be much different . Except it will be Patisseries and coffee or tea. I use the term fragile because the membership is changing . A couple we met from NI introduced us to another family from Yorkshire , and at that introduced yet another and we enjoyed a very pleasant morning with them on their terrace just before coming home. In previous years we would spend a few afternoons with an Irish couple again just gossiping , books , people in common and sipping multiple cups of tea However they sold up 2 years ago . Not very adventurous sessions at all but the stuff of life
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Vezelay is nothing like as profonde as here. And I’m not even that profonde.
Are we going ro have a profonde pi$$ing contest?
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We have lived all over France in the last 27 years. In my opinion, the best place to avoid the English is in the beautiful department of the Aveyron. Don’t tell any Poms though! I am now in Mayenne. A lot of English are leaving because they are 90 dayers, and have to pay Tax d’Habitation on their second homes. Brexshit responsible for mucho bad stuff. I know some English who live here who actually voted to leave! Duh!
Many Fiercely loyal Bretons will not speak English even though they can. They do not even regard themselves as French . Loads of Poms in villages near Rennes, because of the airport. Mayenne already has its share! There are loads of “ P and O” builders here as well! Be warned! Good luck in your search.
I know that people did that, but why?
I recognise an awful lot of the stories on here from our time in France.
I taught English in the equivalent of a U3A institution. One year we invited all of the learners, about 20 or so, with their partners to our house for a supper, American I believe it’s called, everyone shares the catering. We had quite a close French friend who said afterwards “See how many invitations you get afterwards”. We got none. However, we did eat and have apéros with our closer neighbours quite regularly.
Don’t make friends with people whose only connection you have is language. You’ll get bored, and so will they.
Here you’d call that une auberge espagnole
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It is like in North Wales. When I was in the Navy in the 1960’s I was in a ship built in Birkenhesd. We often used to go on runs ashore in some little North Wellian villages. Immediately we walked in, the conversation switched abruptly to Welsh. I once stopped my car near Fougères to pick up a hitch hiker. Years ago. I asked him where he wanted to go. He replied “ France.” I nearly kicked him out! Go figure.
Used to happen all the time in north Wales when I used to do a lot of climbing, funny little pubs some of them, like someones front room (and closed on Sundays ffs).
I would like to know how you knew they weren’t already speaking in their native language, in their native land before you arrived…and misunderstood to expect to be addressed in your, foreign, language?
If I was in Wales, speaking my native language, I’m buggered if I should switch to a foreign one to continue to talk with my mates.
If I walk into a French bar, I don’t expect everyone to suddenly start speaking English.
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I have had the same experience as @Volcanic . We used to do a lot of car filming in Wales, and used to stay locally for a few days. On one such occasion, the eight of us arrived at our hotel for the night, and as we approached we could hear great merriment from the bar beside the front door. Merriment in English…
As we entered, the entire room fell quiet as they looked at us, then started speaking in Welsh.
So what are you moaning about? Did you want to eavesdrop? I have heard the tale many times but never, ever, despite being a frequent visitor to Wales, experienced such a phenomemon.
If only my 2 Grandpas, who both spoke Welsh as a first language had spoken it to me beyond the occasional Daffydd bach (little David), I would be a happy man. 
I’m not moaning, just suggesting that @Volcanic 's experience was not unique and, in my case I knew that the change of language coincided with our entrance.