There is a new hero in my life. - Father Frog. Not only does he groove at weddings he turns up in the evening at our appartment in Paris - after a long day of driving and deliveries in Belgium - in order to help us with the first round of moving out.
He has filled in all the holes where the picture nails used to be and looked for what tools he needs to bring back next week to fix things and ensure that the bastard flat agents con us out of as little deposit as possible.
Having sped home from work yesterday evening I joined father and son frogs to help load up the van with boxes and furniture. He wouldn't hear of Frog accompanying him on the ride back to Reims to help with unloading tonight into the cave.
So after buying him dinner in our local brasserie we waved him off until next Friday's final move out. Now Frog and I are left in a rather empty flat. In which my lovely frog is treating the new space as his personal dance floor as he prances around the flat celebrating that we have 10 days left in this hole. He just bemoans that we have lost the large mirror already that he uses to preen and strike his vanity poses in front of. Oh funny, vain little froggy!
Bedding down on the sofa in the living room (that will act as our bed for the last 10 days) it seems like the adventure is really beginning.