That’s my deep conviction. You can read the floor like a book. It tells you stories about war and peace, about fabulous parties, great balls or devastating fires. Because everything – fires, swords, high-heeled shoes – clearly leaves its mark. When restoring, I try to keep the stories alive.

Clients who visit my workshop in Vienna are often astonished that it doesn’t look like a regular carpentry workshop. We hardly ever sand, plane or saw; our source material is too precious. Our equipment resembles surgical instruments: pipettes, small pliers, fine spatulas and scalpels.

My glasses! I have to examine every single parquet board carefully. How thick is the veneer? How fragile is the wooden base? I have to detect every unevenness or dent before starting the process of cleaning the wood, removing old glue and tiny splinters of wood.

A project I remember for its logistical effort was the work at Hohensalzburg Fortress. There was just one small material hoist we could use between 7am and 9am only. But my greatest pleasure is to successfully work on almost hopeless cases until they shine with new splendour.