IT’S amusing, the little tricks life plays on us. For years, I diligently tuned into every property show that graced the screen.
Room To Improve, Grand Designs, Ireland’s Cheapest Houses, Ireland’s Quirkiest Famine Hovels ... You name it, we watched it.
All those couples embarking on renovations they’d planned for years, their faces a canvas of doe-eyed innocence as they dreamt big dreams with Dermot Bannon by their side.
Visions of sunlit atriums and serene Japanese gardens. Aspirations of polished concrete expanses stretching as far as the eye could see.
Tapering wall extensions teeming with Imax-sized panes of triple-glazed glass framing the undulating West Cork mountains.
The ‘wow’ moment when Dermot unveiled the pristine white model of a grand, triple-height extension, adorned in chocolate cladding, amidst a symphony of perpetually erupting fireworks and the jubilant popping of champagne corks.
And then the inevitable tears when the quantity surveyor came in to pull the rug out from under them all with some cold, hard financial reality checks. And that’s where we find ourselves this week, ladies and gentlemen, navigating our own small kitchen extension in the cold harsh pre-winter of 2024 with the economy going through a period that academics might refer to as the ‘taking the piss’ phase.
We began with visions of cosy reading nooks and a garden room that would spark the artistic pursuits surely awaiting us. What we’re likely to finish with is a humble box for cooking and dining, alongside some foundations for a garden room which we can only dream of putting in this side of Donald Trump’s apocalypse.
Don’t get me wrong, we are very excited to get in and have a little bit more space for our family. And we are blessed to have somewhere to renovate in this day and age.
But, lads, the costs are truly staggering ... It almost feels like a cliché at this point, but if slapping an ‘aul box on a terraced ex-Council house is this eye-watering, how on earth is the government hoping to fire up 55,000 new homes annually, as the coalition has proposed for the next government term? And how the hell is anyone going to afford them?
What strikes me, watching the crew dismantling our shed and laying fresh foundations this week, is how little construction methodologies seem to have evolved over the years. In a world of 3D printing, AI design, and a plethora of advanced tools at our disposal, it appears that construction in Ireland hasn’t moved on at all from when we last did a few jobs in 2013. I hate to say it, because God knows I’ve had a few awful experiences with them in recent weeks, but I think we might need a Ryanair for building.
Don’t go west, young man
THEY are trying to get me to commit to a work trip to San Diego in the New Year and I can’t face the prospect at the moment. Pity about you, I hear you say. Turning his nose up at a chance to go to California.
Thing is, when you are travelling for work, even when it’s a pretty interesting line of work, long haul travel tends to suck the life out of you. First of all, there’s the amount of time you’re away from home which is just so hard when the kids are small, especially for those left to pick up the pieces.
That’s coupled with the fact that it takes about a week to recover from the jet lag when you get back. But this time there’s the extra bit of spicy intrigue – whether the country I’m visiting is still going to be a functioning democracy.
Keep up with Mr Jones
I WAS sad to hear about the death of Quincy Jones, the legendary music producer and innovator, whose music was everywhere when we were growing up.
For me, it will always be the unbelievable work he did with Michael Jackson on Thriller that defines his genius. It’s an album that still holds up and it’s hard to convey how formative these songs were for a youngster growing up thousands of miles east, watching ‘Billie Jean’ play out on MT-USA in his Nana’s house in Union Hall.
I guess heaven just got a whole lot groovier.
Spain rain a wake-up call
THE tragic events in Spain are a stark reminder of how powerless we are when weather overwhelms us. A protest planned in Valencia has called for regional president Mr Mazon, of the conservative People’s Party, to step down. And a daily protest continues in Madrid outside the headquarters of Sanchez’s Socialist party due to anger over the floods. We’ll never forget the scenes of Spain’s King Felipe as the public confronted him in the street over the State’s perceived failure to prepare for the disaster that was to come. It’s a stark reminder that no matter what your politics – conservative, socialist or monarchist – the climate crisis is a nightmare we should all agree is happening.
