Tuesday, 6 October 2009

Horrible Hip Stories

I know I've been here before, moaning on about the uselessness of HIPs. But having now spent 350 of my own quid on one, I have a fresh perspective on the fish/bicycle nature of the beast.
Despite my prejudice I stoically endured the wasted hours spent babysitting the EPC inspector while he counted the number of energy efficient lightbulbs in my house (if they trust us to tell them when we last replaced the guttering and if we have punched our neighbours recently, surely we could do this ourselves?).
I waited patiently for the 'mini-hip' (which sounds more like something sold at the M&S food halls than a nearly empty document) as the window of early autumnal opportunity was swinging shut in the breeze.
And I tried very hard not to think about what I could have spent my £350 on, and the wear and tear to the delete button of my potential buyer's solicitor.
But what I did do is to remind myself that at least no one at all will read it. Which is lucky really because for my £350, the search company have given me comprehensive details on the wrong house. Same number, same road name, unfortunately different town.
Hip Hip Hooray? Hardly.