For Irish people it's the pub, for foreign buyers, the isolation: estate agent-turned-journalist Conor Poweron what holiday homebuyers are looking for

HAVING SPENT 11 years in my previous occupation as an estate agent in Bantry, West Cork, I've been casually observing the good, the bad and the ugly come through the doors of the estate agent's office with dreams in their eyes and cash in their pockets.

The holiday/second home market represented close to 40 per cent of all purchases and those looking for such properties take a different approach to people with a permanent move in mind. Generally speaking, there aren't any great differences . . . just little ones.

Whether it's a holiday home or a permanent home, everyone wants value for money and a fine sea view.

With a permanent home, buyers usually need to fall in love or feel a connection with the house before they buy it. One lady I sold a house to revealed to me afterwards that she had come to view with absolutely no intention of buying, but that she "felt a strong connection" with the owner and had the feeling that she'd met him before and it was on the strength of that that she decided to buy.

Holiday homes are viewed as even more of a commodity than a permanent home. The comfort factor isn't high on the priority list. After all, a holiday home is somewhere to put your head down or your feet up, have a fridge for storing supplies from the local supermarket, and maybe a place to sit out if the evenings are nice.

Often, people want to be able to rent it out while they're not in it, perhaps on a year-round basis, so its rental capability is another area that is scrutinised, with comparable examples in the locality required. And, just in case the need arises (as unfortunately it sometimes does), people want to feel assured that they can offload it without too much difficulty.

When a non-Irish client (which in today's market equals an English one) is looking for a holiday home, then isolation isn't seen as a major problem. In fact, as a rule of thumb, the more crowded the country you come from, the more isolated a location you want in a holiday home.

One couple from Holland I know plumped for a farmhouse on the side of the Beara Peninsula which required parking your car in the yard of someone else's (abandoned) house before trekking on foot along a track for 10 minutes in order to reach the house. They loved it.

For the typical client from Dublin or Cork, however, being within walking (in a straight line) distance from the pub is a very common prerequisite.

I suppose the village pub is a major attraction and they can comfort themselves by viewing their patronage as a patriotic act of supporting rural pub life in modern Ireland.

Holiday-home hunts have occasionally produced embarrassing moments, the most acute of which occurred about eight years ago when I was showing a client around a site for sale.

I chatted with the owner while the prospective buyer walked the acre. My voice trailed off when I noticed that said prospect had decided to stop and urinate in the middle of the field.

As the owner and I stared on in discomfort, there was a clearly audible breaking of wind. He then followed up with a loud explanation that was completely devoid of apology: "Ha . . . it is the wine!"

Given that the landowner was Dutch and the prospective buyer a German, the historical connotations of the scene were not lost on either party and a sale did not ensue.

Possibly the aspect I miss most about my former work is that you find yourself in the position of being able to help to supply someone with a very important chunk of their dream. It gives a great sense of personal satisfaction, as well as helping you to appreciate the place you live in a little better.

One female English client was with me in the car coming from the viewing of a property. As we drove along a particularly scenic part of the Mizen Peninsula, I had to swerve slightly to avoid colliding with a van going around a tight corner.

The client gasped suddenly and, assuming it was because of my swerving, I immediately asked her if she was she alright in the hope that I hadn't scared her.

In a rich English accent that put me in mind of Penelope Keith, she answered: "I'm more than alright! Look at the scenery!"

FINALLY, one important piece of advice for anyone considering the purchase of a holiday home: unless you're exceedingly good at keeping your home-from-home a secret, then ensure that the house is large enough.

Time and again, I've seen people buy small homes in spectacular locations, only to come back to us a year later to see if there was anything bigger for sale, having experienced a rapid and uncomfortable increase in the number of people who wanted to visit them since the purchase of their holiday home.

It always pays to think ahead because in my experience, it's usually a mere matter of time before the holiday home becomes the permanent home.