We were so tired when we got home to a cold house after a full day's travelling (car, plane, bus, train, car). Options for eating were limited. The fire was lit, the distraught cat was (partly) reassured, and S emerged from a search of the larder with a giant tin of cassoulet. It's years since we had to open a can with an actual can opener, and our feeble little device was totally inadequate for the task. "What would Vincent do?" I asked, only half rhetorically. Quick as a flash, S went downstairs and returned with a hammer and chisel. Job done.