Ok, now this is a new one on me. I was all set to go to sleep. Lights off, tucked up snug beneath the duvet. And I can hear something moving around. In the flat. Close by. Now, if there's one thing you don't want to hear in a flat in the city, it's something moving around. My mind jumps to the obvious revolting conclusions. Rats. Cockroaches. Giant maneating spiders with big teeth that'll rip your arm off. Lights on. Mild panic.

No.

It's a frog.

A green bloody frog.

A frog!

This is a basement flat, with no external windows. The ones I do have look onto a covered utility area. My front door leads to a shared corridor, 2 flights of stairs from the front door. How the bloody hell did it get in? But no, here he is (naturally he's a he. I'm a boy. I believe I'll call him Frank) hopping over the books stacked next to my bed. Quick! Catch him! Oh bugger, he's gone behind the bed. Pull it out! Ok... er... what am I going to catch him in? Tupperware! Of course. Right... Slippery customer. Aha. Got him, in the box. Seal that lid down tight! Oh no, wait. He'll need some oxygen, so i open one corner. And take a snap.



See! A real frog! What do i do with it now? It's 2am, in a built up area of London, and I'm just wearing my pants. What the bloody hell do I do with a frog? I can't keep him in here, he might die. And I'm not walking to Finsbury Park at this time of night, I might die. I get dressed and wander to the end of my road where there's a small park. I find an area away from the kids playground, and release him back into the wild (well, as wild as it gets round here.) Without getting stabbed. Success!

How the bloody hell did a frog get into my flat at 2am? What the hell is going on around here?