Kettle’s Yard is a house and it is situated in Cambridge and is a part of the university there. It might be called a museum for there are a great many pictures there and much sculpture. But there are also a lot of pebbles and it is astonishing how often a pebble can look like something quite different – a duck, a torso of a man or a woman, sometimes both. I’m constantly amazed by the beauty of form and space, the glitter of light on surfaces. Glass and china play their part, even cracked teacups into which light falls, like sunshine into pools, and all this makes a home to live in, a place for people to visit and feel at home. We and our friends have lived here for 17 years and it is hard to convey the domestic side of Kettle’s Yard. In 1957 it was four little deserted slum-houses with an alleyway running between them. They were scooped out and turned into one house and the alleyway was bridged and so gradually as the cottages became a place, we began to invite people in. They came cautiously, one at a time, perhaps two, but as the years swept by, more people came until we reached ten thousand visits in the year.