For the first time in a long time, I returned to my old family home for a fleeting visit last week, and I was reminded just how much time, effort and craftsmanship had been put into all its fixtures and fittings. Everything down to its old brass bathroom taps have an ornate design that the chrome-effect ones at my own home just can’t compete with.

The door frames have hand-carved motifs in the top corners, and the original doors themselves are solid, unlike my own new-build plywood-esque ones. Returning to my own home nestled amongst a warren of identical brick boxes, I realised just how soulless our modern environment is.

Just a few days ago, I attended a friend’s wedding and was struck (not literally) by the car whisking the bride and groom away to their new life together (or at least as far as the reception venue). It was a 1950’s Cadillac, and it was absolutely beautiful. For my own wedding, my wife chose us a 1960’s Rolls Royce Silver Shadow in all its impeccable glory. She could have chosen any one of a plethora of shiny modern cars-to-hire like a Mercedes SLK or a brand-spanking new Bentley. But like most brides, she went for something old. What makes us harken to the past at the most important events of our life? Could it be that its relics we’re left with were built with a passion and a heart we no longer have?

The more I look around at our modern world, I can’t help but notice how wrong things are. Our streets are dirty and choked with litter. The people are walking around in jogging bottoms and pyjamas. Watching vintage footage of London, it’s almost painful to see how clean it all looks, how well-dressed the people are, even those we would consider poor today. Where and why did it come crashing down?

I think the answer is simple; it’s down to two things – pride and purpose. Case in point – Crossness Pumping Station in London. Designed by James Watt & Co in the 19th Century, it has a simple purpose – to pump raw human sewage up 12 metres from the south of the River Thames to a reservoir. Below is an image showing what it looks like.

Incredibly, it has the Monarch’s initials cast into its metalwork – VR, Victoria Regina, and its opening was attended by the Archbishop of Canterbury. People had so much pride in their work back then, it seems completely alien to us now. When was the last time our current Archbishop attended the opening of a shit-pumping station?

It’s bewildering to the point of depression having to live in the shadow of previous generations’ efforts that we struggle simply to maintain today. I’m starting to hate how ugly our current creations are, how little creativity there is, and this laziness is poisoning our culture. Look at the movies we flock to see – how many of them are remakes of old classics? How many are retellings of old stories? Whether it’s superhero blockbusters or period dramas, we seem to have forgotten how to tell new tales, how to create something truly unique, something with a soul.

Is it any wonder we’re living through an epidemic of mental illness here in the West? We wake up on polyester bedsheets only to get dressed in polyester clothes before making a morning coffee in a plastic machine. Going to work on the public transit system is about as inspiring as getting root canal treatment at the dentist, and when we do finally get to work, our environment is drab and utilitarian.

I’ve pinpointed this decline to somewhere at the end of the 1970s. Around this time, we decided to churn out mass-produced rubbish to the point where our devices are designed to fail after a period of 5 years. Things have gotten so bad, the UK Government has had to introduce a law that prevents designed obsolescence in white goods. Craftsmanship has been replaced by profit, and pride replaced by convenience. And all of us are suffering for it.

Bit by bit, I’m pushing back on the encroachment of this uglification by surrounding myself with beautiful things from the past. Whether it’s something as simple as an old writing desk or an antique cabinet repurposed as a TV stand, I’m finding solace in the idea that if our ancestors understood the importance of beauty in their environment, perhaps we can get it back. The problem is, I’m firmly in the minority, and while hoards of today’s youth would rather experience a music festival through the screen of a smartphone than actually live it, I fear we’re all doomed to an ugly future.