A landlord's life

It was a sorry-looking place in a bleak part of town

It was a sorry-looking place in a bleak part of town. A century ago, it was a sought-after home because of its water sanitation, which meant a tap in the back yard and a row of sit-down toilets with look see hatches.

The building was a step up for Dublin's working-class in the 1900s, when the city was among the slummiest cities of Europe. Fleeing the fever-infested Georgiana of Gardiner Street, with large families living in one room, this edifice became known as "de buildins". Many a family was reared there and thrived to play a role in national life that followed political independence.

By the same token of that independence, it had become a slum again by the 1980s. The Corpo sold it to a "punter" whose CV as a law-abiding citizen has some serious gaps. The Corpo was glad to be rid of it, saving maintenance and litigation.

The man with the CV refurbished it. I was looking to invest, but most places were out of my league. When I saw the ad for an apartment for €25,000, I cashed an insurance policy, put deposits on two off-plan apartments and persuaded a building society to grant a mortgage. Then I made the mistake of mentioning the purchase to a relative.

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On a shopping trip from the country, she asked the taxi driver to detour and he put down the safety catches on the door. "This is Injun country" he said, as they drove by "de buildins". She asked if I had lost my marbles.

"De buildins" took longer to refurbish than promised, mainly as the northside crew were in and out of The Joy with a regularity that allowed the tiler to start the bathrooms in March, do a stint inside, and return to finish the kitchens in June. All the immersion heaters burst, as they were a job lot which had mysteriously been given a cert of worthiness on their way to the dump.

The man with the CV sat outside in his four-wheel drive and supervised the completion. Oddly, vandalism declined in the area. The former tenement was converted into what estate agents like to call bijou city pads. The progress of refurbishment was regulated by the release roster of The Joy. When finished, the apartments were attractive - the retention of crafted stone and wide planking floors made them appealing to young singles with a taste for design.

Then the boom started. And kept going on, and on. I had no trouble letting the apartments. That was all of 15 years ago. In the meantime, with values soaring, I was able to use that first investment as collateral to build a portfolio. In passing I have had as rich an experience of human foible as only policemen and psychiatrists are privileged to enjoy or endure. As tenants, I have encountered head-bangers, fantasists, the lonely and the homely. I passed by the street last week. Since I made my first steps into renting, the area has been transformed. What was a wasteland is buried under under spanking new apartments and townhouses. I don't feel any sense of achievement. I am not a social scientist, I am a Landlord.