.....when you make a delivery to a client's house and your client tells you that their house used to being to Henri IV's mother  and invites you in for a tour.The problem being that whilst I am in the process of talking to the client, French Boyfriend calls me asking where I am as I have left him waiting in the car and he is hungry and that I promised that I would only be a couple of minutes and that I would return quickly so that we could eat our lunch before returning to our  village for a RDV at  2pm.I decided that although the tour was most appealing, less appealing was the thought of a grumpy and starving French Boyfriend.I make my excuses and rush back to where I left French Boyfriend. I find him lazing by a lavoir chomping happily on the pain bagnat I had made him as part of our picnic lunch.Happy and now well fed, he says that if we had accepted the offer of the looking around our clients house, our client may have offered us coffee.It is hard to believe that this is the same person I spoke to only a few minutes earler who was throwing a tantrum. As I write this, the time comes to mind when we lost him, whilst  on holiday in New Zealand.We were spending the day with my mother and sister shopping in the very charming village of Devonport.FB informs us that he needs to go to the toilet so we point him in the direction of the rest rooms and we continue shopping and chatting as we make our way around the village.The time passes quickly an...