Wood I lie to you

I have betrayed my ancestors and upbringing and I dare not face my neighbour who is a timber merchant. I had better explain why. My house is of 1920's vintage and will originally have featured a lot of painted woodwork to the exterior. Thanks to The Readers Digest Book of Home Improvements 1974, updated never, some of the warmth of wood was lost to aluminium and brushed steel in the form of replacement windows considered all the rage at that time.  Later, even the space age high tech metalwork was smelted down to make way for UPVC with the benefit of double glazing units. I have managed to retain some attractive timber although lacking access to long ladders and a cure for vertigo much of this fringing the roof at high level is worse for wear. In the 1980's many interior designers got rich on the very paintwork effect now gracing my bargeboards and soffits. I think it was called distressed. The front of my house has a rectangular recess at first floor level with a painted wood balcony which I have just revived after 15 years of occupancy. At least the balustrade is the original and not obviously part of a staircase with some adaptations. Just below the concrete floor of the balcony is a deep supporting timber across a discoloured  UPVC storm porch enclosure and on top of that a very rotten and creased cloaking piece. Having revamped the rail and even tarted up the render around the balcony my DIY intentions now focused on the poor bit of wood. I carefully inserted my crowbar to ease off the 3.5m length. At first, some resistance, then the release of 90 years accumulated dust, spider bodies and cosmic particles before the length of wood overpowered the rusty nails and fell to the ground with an amusing sound but one that cannot be described or replicated to anyone not there at the time. The exposed upper edge of the supporting timber was soft and cubed with wet rot but was prized out easily. I then surveyed what I had done. What a mess. The restoration project began to take shape. I sketched out a grand scheme for a timber facade, measured and marked on the sheet of paper what was required and then transposed this onto a shopping list. 4m length of timber to allow for error, big nails or big screws, primer, undercoat, gloss paint, quadrant mouldings to disguise gaps, battens to infill, diet coke and a chocolate bar. Approximate cost, unknown. (Diet Coke, maximum 79p, Choccy up to £1). At the B&Q megastore I did the usual three to four laps in the pre-purchase stage mentally mapping out the aisle positions for my acquisitions. Hardware, paint and brushes stacked in the main sales hall.Timber at the far end, part open air, large racks of planed, unplaned, tanalised, not tanalised, light, dark, interestingly speckled. I am not an expert on wood. My skill with wood is confined to deciding what would burn with most smoke production to annoy my non-timber merchant neighbour.
I did actually handle some wood at that stage. The smooth warmth of the surface, the resolute soundness of the grain, the true alignment of the required 4m length did all impress. So why was I seduced by the plastic fascia board that now takes pride of place on the front of the house. Okay, it was metre for metre a lot cheaper than timber, I could carry it easily and when strapped to my passenger side wing mirror with a high-viz vest and wedged at the other end against the estate car tailgate I stood a chance of getting it home without 3 points on my driving licence or with a cyclist impaled on the end. The final effect is what I had in my minds eye but I am disappointed by my treachery to, in particular my grandfather who was a skilled carpenter. He would not forgive me for my surrender to oil based extruded products nor, if he knew in the years after his passing, that I had often grossly misused his prized woodworking tools in many DIY applications for which they were never intended.