If anyone is under the impression that moving to France and doing up a house is glamorous and/or romantic, let me put them right; it’s neither!

We picked up the “grande tronçonneuse” on Friday evening; the lads were pleased that it wasn’t as heavy as it looked. You pay a fee for the hiring of it, plus an extra 30 euros for every millimetre of blade that you use. There were 4mm left on the blade, so we got a second one, just in case.

They started on Saturday morning, making vertical cuts in the walls of the cuves, using the small angle grinder to cut through the steel reinforcements at the end points of the cuts and using a sledgehammer to knock bits out and the digger to push bits over. At one point, the digger was wobbling about so much that the door fell off, cracking the glass! The tronçonneuse no longer felt lightweight, but seemed to be getting heavier by the hour.

By Saturday night, the first cuve was done and the second one started, and both Nick and Kieran were exhausted. Kieran couldn’t even eat his dinner, he was so tired!

Sunday was a rerun of Saturday and by the afternoon both cuves were gone; apart from the bases, which can be broken up at a later date, using the concrete breaker. Rob, our neighbour, will be coming round this week to take away the rubble for a project he’s doing. Nick and Kieran look rather like zombies, too tired to do much at all. I think it might be an evening for watching a film!

We’re having another caption competition on the photo below. Suggestions in the comments box, please!

Captions please!