It's time to admit the real extent of our problems, writes Isabel Morton

Last week, whilst being briefed by clients who intend buying a substantial family home in Dublin, I noted that they frequently mentioned one particular road in Dublin 6, which they obviously favoured. With this in mind, I set off on a drive-by tour of the area in general and their favourite road in particular, presuming I would come across a couple of suitable properties for sale.

As only one sale sign decorated the road in question, I contacted a few estate agents, on the presumption that there might be at least one or two other properties, “quietly” on the market.

A couple of phone calls later I had a list of 11 properties, all “quietly” for sale on that road. Needless to say, the estate agents diplomatically ignored my obvious surprise at the number available and astutely avoided discussing the situation.

An image flashed before my eyes of how many of Dublin’s respectable residential roads might look if “For Sale” signs were erected outside all of the properties, currently on the market.

Is it any wonder that these signs are not in situ? Their vast numbers, would advertise the true horror of the situation in which we now find ourselves.

Estate agents claim signs are pointless, particularly on homes valued at over €1 million, as banks are just not lending money for properties in this price bracket. And they are correct. However, there comes a point when the signs are no longer advertising the property for sale or promoting the estate agent’s logo, instead they are highlighting the fact that there are far too many properties on the market.

Clutching lists as thick as telephone directories, estate agents hotly pursue the few fortunate potential buyers out there and firmly believe they know anyone left in the country, who is still solvent.

And vendors these days are understandably reticent about erecting “For Sale” signs, as in their view, they do nothing much more than advertise the fact that they’re in dire straits and urgently need to sell.

This is particularly true of a certain sector of the population. Historically, the “professional” or “upper middle” classes stay silent: washing one’s dirty linen in public is just not done. And, as the backbone of society, they must be seen to keep the show on the road and not complain, as, after all, they were privileged enough to have been born into a “good” family and lucky enough to have received a “good” education.

Unable to lay blame on the unfortunate circumstance of their birth or on a deprived or underprivileged childhood, they are of the belief that they should have known better.

But of late, the financial pressure is weighing so heavily on some that they are breaking their silence and shouting from the rooftops.

That same afternoon, I ran into an old acquaintance, whom I hadn’t seen for a number of years. Making the usual social chitchat, I asked how things were, enquiring after her husband and family and was told quite bluntly that “things” were not at all good and that she’d had enough of “the pathetic pretence of it all” and thought it was about time they stopped “living a lie”.

She went on to give me a rapid-fire description of her husband’s futile insistence on donning his suit and tie every morning and heading off to his office, only to spend the day doing little or nothing.

“He just can’t accept the fact that he’s no longer earning enough to justify keeping on the office, let alone the staff. For the past few months we’ve been barely managing to scrape by on my salary and the small amount he’s making, but we can’t go on like this. The bank is on our backs and he refuses to talk about it. He just continues to live in hope . . .”. She spat all this out in anger, before apologising for her outburst.

Over a cup of coffee, in an effort to assure her that she was not alone in this situation, I told her of my recent discovery of all the properties for sale on one particular residential road and how I’d imagined the road would look if it were littered with “For Sale” signs.

“That’s just the trouble,” she said. “Why are we all playing this silent game? Why are so many properties ‘quietly’ on the market? Why are we all being so discreet? Who are we trying to fool? Why dont we all just stick together and stick up the ‘For Sale’ signs in protest? If every household under financial pressure were to put up a large ‘For Sale’ sign, it would get the message across loud and clear, that we can no longer survive being hounded by our banks and crucified by our government. Surely it couldnt be ignored?” she demanded.

I didn’t think it would be ignored. Indeed, I imagined Sky News broadcasting images worldwide of “For Sale” signs dominating every Irish housing estate, street, country village, rural laneway and city skyline.

What affect such a approach might have on our government or our banks is debatable. Still, anything is better than remaining politely silent.