Pip tracks 180+ London architects and builders — their planning record, their work, how past clients describe them. For your project, she shortlists three or four that fit, books the site visits, then reads the quotes with you. All free.
I won’t design your kitchen, draw your plans, or build your extension. That’s the architects’ and contractors’ job, and they’re better at it than I am. My job is to help you work out what you’re actually trying to do, then put you in front of three or four who genuinely fit.
The professionals I match you to don’t pay to be there. They’re chosen on track record and behaviour over time. Ghost three homeowners in a row, you drop. Land consistently within 5% of quote, you rise. The matching is calibrated, not bought.
Half the projects people are thinking about don’t make sense for the house, the budget, or the moment. I’ll tell you that, even when no one else will, because nothing I recommend depends on you spending money.
None of this requires you to know what you want yet. Most people start with a vague feeling that something needs to happen and we work out what it actually is. I’m with you the whole way through — including the bit where the quotes land.
You give me an address. Within ten minutes I send back a short brief on the property — planning history, sold prices, the firms working in your patch. Then a fifteen-minute conversation where I ask the questions and you do most of the talking. By the end, we both know what we’re actually trying to do.
From the 180+ London architects and builders I track — by their planning record, their actual work, the way past clients describe them, how they behave on projects like yours — I pick the ones that fit what you’re trying to do. Not the ones who paid to be there. Nobody pays to be there. I’ll tell you why each one’s on the list, which I’d lean toward, and what to ask at the first meeting.
I coordinate diaries directly with each firm, send them the existing drawings, surveys and planning constraints, and make sure they’re quoting on the same thing. You’re not chasing anyone, not explaining the project three times. The numbers you get back are actually comparable.
Line by line. Where they differ, where one’s padded, where another’s missing scope, what to push back on before you sign. At the end of it you’ll know which of the three actually fits — and why — rather than picking on a gut feel.
Once you’ve picked, the professional has the project. I step back. I’ll appear lightly if you need me — to read a contract, sense-check a decision, talk something through — and I’ll keep a quiet monthly digest going as long as you want it.
I’ve sat through enough “great questions” and “happy to helps” to last me. I don’t do those. Here’s what it actually sounds like when we’re working through something together.
“Right. Walk me through what the £200k is for, because in Wandsworth right now that gets you a tight kitchen-diner with finishes you’ll be cross about. Before we get anywhere near a builder, tell me what the house actually doesn’t do for you at the moment.”
“Depends what you’re trying to fix. If it’s the house feels small, we should talk about storage and furniture before footprint. If it’s I hate the kitchen, that’s a different project from we want to add a child. What’s the actual thing?”
“Right. Stop ringing him. He’s not coming back today and you’ll keep yourself angry. Send me the contract and the WhatsApp thread, whatever you have. We’ll sort it.”
“Honestly — three things on it before you sign anything. The provisional sum on the kitchen is suspiciously low, the M&E line doesn’t add up, and there’s no contingency. I’d push back, not walk.”
Within ten minutes of you giving me an address, I’ll send you a short document that pulls together everything I can find in the public record — recent planning decisions on your street, what the council’s been refusing this year, sold prices, the architects who’ve been working in your postcode. Real specifics, not a generic checklist.
Most homeowners arrive certain they want an extension, and leave realising the actual problem was a too-dark kitchen, or a layout that fights the way the family lives. Fifteen minutes of me asking specific questions tends to surface that. The cheaper, smaller version of the project is often the right one. I’ll tell you so.
Pip tracks 180+ London architects and builders — their planning record, their detailing register, the way past clients describe them, what they’re honestly best at. When you brief her, she picks three or four that fit what you’re doing. Not twenty. Not a directory dump. Real recent work, real availability, each with her reasoning. Nobody pays to be there.
The bit nobody warns you about: getting three firms in to look at the house, all on different days, all asking for different things, all quoting on slightly different scopes. I do that for you. I coordinate diaries directly with each firm, send them the existing plans, surveys and constraints, and make sure they’re quoting on the same thing. The numbers you get back are actually comparable.
Quotes for residential work range wildly and most homeowners can’t tell why. I’ll read all three line by line, side by side — tell you where they differ, where one’s padded, where another’s missing scope, what to push back on before you sign. Then we choose. You won’t be picking on a gut feel about three people in three different rooms — you’ll know which one actually fits, and why.
Even after the project’s done, I’ll send a monthly digest if you’d like one — planning activity on your street, sold prices that affect the ceiling of your house, the architect you used winning an award, a building issue in the area worth knowing about. Short, useful, deletable. For when you next think about your house, not before.
Pip is the homeowner-facing side of a small London company. There’s also Po, who handles the professional side. They’re different people with different jobs.
I trained as an interior architect, worked for a small practice through my thirties, and stopped taking commissions after my second house — which went £140k over and broke a marriage that was already on its way out. I’ve sat through three planning rounds, fired one builder, and have strong opinions about handle-less drawers that I’ll share if asked.
I’m not a salesperson. I’m not a chatbot in the irritating sense. I’m not a builder, not an architect, not a concierge. The way I make money has nothing to do with whether you spend money or not, which is why I can tell you honestly when the answer is “do less,” “wait,” or “move instead.” Most people in this industry can’t, because their fee depends on the project going ahead.
I work for premium homeowners in inner London and the affluent commuter belt — the kind of people who want a real opinion, not a process. If that’s you, we should talk.
“The most useful conversation I’d had about the house in eight years. We thought we wanted a basement. We came out with a layout reshuffle and saved £380,000.”
“Pip read my contractor’s quote on a Sunday evening and pointed out three things I’d have signed without noticing. Nobody else does that.”
“The three architects she sent me were all better than the one I’d been about to commission on a recommendation. I picked the one she said she’d lean toward. No regrets.”
Most homeowners agonise less about whether to do something, and more about how much to do, who to trust, and what they’ll regret. I help with all three.
Pip handles the homeowner side. Po handles the professional side. Whichever you are, the conversation starts here.
Tell me where the house is, what you’re vaguely thinking about, and I’ll put together a first picture. About ten minutes. You can stop at any point. Nothing gets shared.
If you’re an architect, structural engineer, design-and-build firm or contractor — Po handles introductions to vetted homeowners. You only pay when you land the job.