The climb from bit of coloured chewing gum to bit of coloured chewing gum continues, with some inelegant slips and dangling in a harness.
I have a Belgian phone number.
I have a work contract.
One of my jobs has gone tits up. The one I was starting in a couple of weeks. Radio silence from my prospective employer made me a little worried. I emailed and she called me - husband's job at risk, so they can't take on any help. Arsefucks. On the plus side she is paying for an ad to advertise me to the subscribers of the Belgian Childbirth Trust. Anglo-mums in Brux. Come on girls, giss a job.
And I'm tenterhooked waiting to hear about an apartment. All documents showing that I'm worthy have been sent. All that remains is to wait for the landlord to decide whether I'm kosher.