We’ve all had that moment.
You stub your toe on the coffee table (again), trip over the dog (who refuses to move), and try to cook dinner in what feels like a cupboard with a hob. You turn to your other half and say those dangerous words:
“Maybe we should move somewhere bigger.”

When I was sixteen, I swapped a school desk for a pair of steel-toe boots, a battered tool bag, and an early morning start on my first site. I didn’t know it then, but that muddy plot of land would be the beginning of a lifelong passion — and a standard I’d hold myself to for every job since.