Robert Merry, an independent stone consultant, project manager and expert witness who ran his own stone company for 17 years, takes a sage look back at what he has been doing this month in the stone industry.

I took a trip to Italy to view some stone this month. It was between Bergamo and Mantova (Mantua), the same place Friar Lawrence sent Romeo in Romeo and Juliet after he’d murdered Juliet’s cousin Tybalt, after Tybalt had murdered Mercutio, Romeo’s cousin. They all end up dead or banished.

I am nervous. I am only going for two or three days but then look at what happened to Romeo and Juliet in about the same time.

We have arranged to meet at the airport at 5am – the flight is at 6.30am. It is packed. Half term week. Economic recession? It doesn’t seem possible.

The flight is the usual knees behind-your-ears-unable-to-move, ramming bags into overhead lockers, too cold, too hot, extortion rife – £3 for a tea bag on an aluminium stick, UHT milk carton and a sachet of sugar.

In Italy we hire a car and speed down the A4 towards Mantua.

Three hours in and I have not been challenged to a duel, although the man in the

auto-strada toll booth looked on the verge of drawing his blade when I asked for a receipt. I averted my eyes and drove on.

The marble yard is in a small village, behind a house. Discreet, unnoticeable from the road. In complete contrast to Carrara with its rows and rows of marble yards with blocks of stone stacked high, topped by yellow overhead gantry cranes.

The only other industry for miles around at this marble yard is agriculture.

We are staying in an Agriturismo (that’s a farmhouse bed and breakfast) just outside Valeggio, which is famous for its Tortellini, although, sadly, I only discovered this once we had departed.

After an exhausting two days marking stone slabs with the world’s most demanding architect, we find ourselves sipping beer in a small café off the main drag in Bergamo. It isn’t hot, but pleasant. The early start the day before and the work suddenly catches up with us all and we sit in silence.

Reflecting on the two days in Italy since our return I have realised I made one mistake – trusting someone else to select the stone and expecting them to apply the same standards as I would have done.

This was the only stone I had not selected but had been supplied to match approved samples. It didn’t.

It didn’t match the samples or the expectations of the demanding architect… nor my expectations, for that matter.

It was a calamitous end to a good two days. When we opened the slabs they were full of tiny yellow marks.

It felt as if the supplier had let us down. Trust had fled. Why had they sent this? Did they think they would get away with it? I wanted to challenge them to a duel there and then.

As Sampson says at the beginning of Romeo and Juliet: “I bite my thumb at you, Sir.” In my case, for making the company and me look stupid in front of the client.

“Do you bite your thumb at me, Sir?”

“I do not bite my thumb at you, Sir… but I do bite my thumb.” Fight!

Except of course that I’m a coward and rubbish at sword fighting. And Romeo and Juliet is a play and there’s no stone in it to mention. Unlike my life, where stone is central to the plot.

So now starts the war of the email instead. We have to

re-build the trust. All unnecessary if they had selected the stone correctly and not made the process so much harder.

At the end of Romeo and Juliet the Prince gives a long speech chastising the two warring families and counting the enormous cost. They shake hands, reconcile differences, forgive. They depart vowing never to repeat the mistakes of the past.

I just need a Prince, a decent supplier and some stone without yellow marks. Then I could forgive, too.

Robert Merry, MCIOB, ran his own stone company for 17 years and is now an independent Stone Consultant and Project Manager. If you need his services, he would be happy to hear from you. Tel: 0207 502 6353 / 07771 997621