We're all getting creative to make the best of our bricks and mortar

I ONCE had a notion (didn’t we all?) that I might retire early and enjoy the fruits of my labour, whilst I was still physically able. Let’s be blunt, one never knows the day or the hour and, as the saying goes “life’s a bitch and then you die”.

I was reminded of this when out with friends the other evening, as conversation turned to the subject of making lifestyle changes.

Like a health scare, this recession is jolting people into action to make changes they may not otherwise have bothered making. The theory being a mixture of “things are so bad they can hardly get any worse” and “you only live once”. And with the Joneses now publicly declared bankrupt, there’s a certain relief all round that there’s nobody to keep up with anymore.

Property, however, was still playing a central role in each new scenario.

One friend had recently killed two birds with one stone by separating and moving to a different area of the city to live closer to her teenager’s school and their circle of friends. After only a few weeks living in their new home, they claim their lives have been utterly transformed, partly due to the obvious lack of marital tension in the home and partly due to the ease with which they can now commute between home, school and their circle of friends.

As she marvelled over the change it had made to their lifestyle, another joined in to agree, quoting her sister who, due to a move of no more than a few miles, had gained a couple of extra hours in her day because she no longer has to battle rush-hour traffic, and her children now have a two-minute stroll around the corner to school. Apparently she, too, is ecstatic about the way in which their house move has revolutionised their daily lives.

Another, unable to find a buyer for her large country home, is making good use of every nook and cranny by renovating outbuildings and letting them, renting out land to local farmers and providing accommodation in exchange for physical help around the house and farmyard.

Having skipped up the property ladder wearing little more than skimpy shorts and T-shirts, many now realise they should have worn mountaineering boots and all-weather, high-visibility protective clothing, carried tools, torches and ropes, taken out insurance policies and written their last will and testament before attempting the first step.

But too late now for recriminations, these days it’s all about being resourceful, creative and imaginative in order to make the best use of our bricks and mortar.

Children who once enjoyed the luxury of having their own bedroom and en suite bathroom now find themselves bunking in with their siblings, as their rooms have been commandeered and are now being let to students.

Young couples, barely having had a chance to enjoy owning their own homes, now have to share their living space with rent-paying strangers to help pay their mortgage.

And middle-aged parents are welcoming back their adult children, many of whom had long-since flown the coop in an effort to help them get back on their financial feet.

Dramatic lifestyle changes are taking place in homes all around the country and, as one friend admitted, they are not always easy.

“I love my children of course, but I’m not entirely sure that I like them very much, particularly now that they are back living with us.”

Few, if any, at the table that night would have escaped totally unscathed from the property crash. Some of us joked about how all of our previously well-laid plans had come unstuck and how any talk of easing back, taking a break from the rat race or opting out was a thing of the past, as early retirement was now entirely out of the question.

On the drive home from my night out, I remembered a recent radio programme that delved into the depths of peoples’ Celtic Tiger lives and asked listeners to ring in and admit to purchases made during the boom times that are now, in retrospect, nothing more than embarassing.

Callers rang in with predictable tales of money spent on designer shoes and clothes, expensive cars and luxurious holidays.

But the most dramatic yet simple story came from a distraught middle-aged man who admitted he was entirely responsible for moving his wife and family from their perfectly comfortable family home to a “luxury mansion” that, he admitted tearfully, they could no longer afford.

The few seconds of stunned silence from the studio presenter and panel said it all. In radio terms, those few seconds’ silence seemed like hours.

Suddenly, nobody was laughing anymore.

Isabel Morton is a property consultant