So we walked away from the house, took back our offer. And frankly, I'm a bit relieved. It was a dog. Not that we really understood how much of a dog until we read the Builder's Report, aka, a list of things falling off the house or didn't meet the building code, which was quite long and made our bank manager laugh and say 'oh my gosh!' a lot.
It's back to square one, of Sundays taken up with open homes, poking window sills, avoiding slimy estate agents, Postie muttering under his breath about storage. Can't wait.