For two many years I have been a man without a cause. I have meandered, with an almost entire lack of conviction, through every aspect of my life.
But, and I know you sensed a but coming, I think I have now found my calling.
I want to rid the world of pebbledash. Pebbledash is the scourge and a blight to the outside of houses in just the same way as Anaglypta wallpaper was to the inside of houses. They both serve to cover up shoddy workmanship, to bring a continuity of surface onto uneven foundations.
Instead of making the bare surface bold and beautiful it is as if they would encourage pretty girls to wear rickety-rackety undergarments, assuring these poor innocents that a spray of top coat will turn them into princesses, it won't; their veneer will be seen through, their pretentiousness to any honour will be discounted.
I have seen no beauty in pebbledash, I believe its very make up, and form of application, prohibit such beauty ever emerging.
I think then that I have found my cause. I want to rid the world of pebbledash!
First I want to clear this ugliness from the countryside, where this so obviously man-made debacle sits absolutely uneasily alongside the beauty of nature.
I would also like to begin on the Hebridean Isles, where this, my revulsion to pebbledash, climaxed. And perhaps as a symbolic gesture I would begin with the Museum of South Uist outside of where I now sit.
Kate is keen to join the protest but isn't too happy with my stance of not entering pebbledashed buildings. I will have to put her on the associate membership list I think, until she becomes more committed.
We call in on the Dutch artist
Jac Volbeda, he welcomes Kate and me into his fine and artistic white, wet-dashed, bed abd breakfast property, he gives us many links to artists and writers from the Netherlands, I tell him of my campaign against pebbledash, he has some sympathy, together we listen to Counting Crows.
