August 8th 2016
Today I had to learn what an EPC rating was. (spoiler alert: I’m still not entirely sure) You see, I’m at the stage of my life where I’m looking to start renting my first place with my girlfriend. And so we’ve been looking at various flats, and we even had a viewing for one. She’s going to view another one tomorrow, actually. But there’s a problem with tomorrows flat: it has an EPC rating of F! DUM DUM DUM! Now, again, I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I know the consequences of it. A poor EPC rating means colder house which means higher bills. Which is bad. I’m smart enough to build the correlation that high bills = bad.
From what my Mum briefly told me, an EPC rating can vary dependent on whether the house has double glazing, or if there is stuffing between the walls. Or something. These concepts all seem foreign to me. Bills, I mean. Council tax. Heating. Electricity. That other one… Gas. It’s something that I’ve experienced before, but second hand. During my second year of university I had to pay energy bills. This involved transferring a certain amount of money to the guy in are house who was most adept at dealing with energy companies. In third year, that responsibility came down to me – and I hated it. Not because I had to sort out our payments with the energy companies, but because it involved chasing my flatmates for money. Which wasn’t fun. I’m fairly sure one of them still owes me a months worth of water payments.
Fairly soon (hopefully) I will be paying bills, giving meter readings, conversing with boiler repairmen. I think that’s basically a definition of adulthood, and it sounds pretty shit to be fair. But, in all honesty, I can’t wait.
The day I have to phone up British Gas and complain that I’ve been charged too much for the quarter will be a great and momentous day in my life. Because then I’ve made it. A house, a girlfriend, a job, responsibilities, bills. That’s proper adulthood when right now I’m just a pretender.
I’ll make a shitty adult, just ask my Dad. I have no practical skills, poor interpersonal skills, and I don’t know how to bleed a radiator. I don’t even know what the purpose of bleeding a radiator is, or if that is even the right term.
But I’m excited to find out.
Until tomorrow, because that’s all part of adulthood.