We were about to exchange contracts when I got a call from the estate agent to tell me that another list of queries had come in.
I took one look at it and decided I had better not read it properly, because I saw the words ‘wind turbines’.
In a few decades no conveyancing will be possible and no one will
be able to move house
‘What the hell is this?’ I asked the agent, who was stuttering: ‘Oh dear… calm down…’
‘Don’t tell a woman to calm down!’ I shouted. And he apologised profusely. I felt sorry for him. It wasn’t his fault. The buyer’s solicitor had gone on holiday and left the file in the hands of a gaggle of millennials, who had managed to unpick ten weeks of negotiations by googling everything – again.
Thus they found a wind farm being built in a village of the same name, in the Peak District.
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