This morning my lovely wife and I began French language classes.
For the next five weeks, four hours every Saturday morning (and part of the afternoon) will be spent conjugating verbs, trying to remember the right preposition, and desperately trying to pronounce the letter 'R' without spitting all over the desk.
This is all part of our ill-defined (at the moment) but nevertheless strong intention to move to Paris.
Someday. Hopefully soon.
The next part will be working out how to transport two cats, one terminally grumpy and the other morbidly obese, halfway across the world.
Compared to that, getting the language down will be the easy part.