I seem to have found a place, with a conservatory (!) and a landlord who doesn't mind cats, hurrah, although obviously it could all go horribly wrong yet.
My mum very kindly offered to drive me to the letting agents' office, for which I had detailed phone instructions. Female Parental Unit, however, said she knew the way already.
Thirty minutes later, having driven down a long leafy road that turned into a leafy path, skeletal twiggy fingers scraping down the windscreen whilst ravens circled overhead, with their special eye-gouging beaks on:
MUM: (puzzled) Well this isn't where Google Maps said it was.