Last week I started Karschering (the french word for pressure washing. Really!) the stones around the pool. Jerry, our everything-is-a-possibility-and-there-are-no-problems real estate agent, had assured us that the dingy looking tiles and stones around the pool needed a good karschering and everything will look as good as new. Well, the moment I started kashering tiles, tiles, rocks and even a snake started jumping and slithering around me. I channeled my inner Jerry: No problem, this is a great opportunity to actually enlarge the terrasse around the pool. It was all a bit cramped anyway. I am just going to break down the whole wall. In this day and age who needs walls anyway. I got the Kascherer out, I bought a sledge hammer. Of I go. One bit of the wall came out easily, the others didn’t. They got stuck between a rock and a hard place. And did NOT go down easily. At the end of the day Eric, the Dad of the our Lancester threesome, took one look at me being covered in debris and soaked to the bones. “You need my lads to help you tomorrow. They have some heavy machinery and they will loosen those stones for you in no-time. So that is what they did this morning. It still took a whole day to get that damned wall down and move them to an other pile. At one point the wall looked like the mouth of giant with really bad teeth. At the end of the day, the lads had to do a few more root canals and finally all the rocks where moved from one pile to an other. Now what? Don’t want to think about that. I need a stiff Gin and Tonic first.