TALKING PROPERTY: OVER THE last few months all sorts of people have contacted me about their property woes. Some I know well, others I've met once or twice and some I didn't know at all.

Emails, phone calls and letters have been received and approaches have been made in a variety of odd places such as building sites, an airport departure lounge, my dentist’s waiting room and supermarket isles.

There have been calls from friends of friends, from people I’ve worked with in the dim and distant past and via obscure chain-link connections, such as parents of children who were once in school with my children, over a decade ago. I’ve been cornered at parties, waylaid in car parks and approached in queues. People have property-related stories to tell and they are now talking.

Many are horrified at the situation in which they now find themselves. They are so caught up with worry, that can they hardly think of anything else. Debt, or the fear of it, is now dominating many people’s lives.

I’ve heard every side of every story, from those who lived the high life and completely lost the run of themselves, to those who believed they were acting responsibly and investing in their children’s future. Some were innocent and easily swayed, others took calculated business decisions. Many worked hard to make the most of each opportunity and a few were greedy, in the belief that property could make them a fast buck.

The saddest stories include those of average, everyday people who innocently followed the pack and have ended up suffering the full consequence of the property crash.

One woman, sitting near me at a wedding, explained how she’d bought property for her three adult children: “We remortgaged to buy three apartments in spring 2006. We were planning to sell our own place, downsize and pay off our loan when we retired in 2009. We worked it out carefully, got advice and it seemed like the sensible, responsible thing to do. But it turned out that we bought at the height of the market and then missed the boat ourselves”.

There is never any quick solution to these problems. Apart from picking the option which will have the least detrimental impact on one’s finances, other things must be considered such as family circumstances, future plans and lifestyle issues. Sometimes an outsider can help people to see things from a new perspective.

Many are now trapped in this catch-22 situation, where they are either unable to sell their property, or if they do, will sell at a loss and still owe their bank the outstanding amount.

I spoke to one couple recently who have been trying, unsuccessfully, to sell their large, period “trophy home”, and are dreading another cold winter, as they can no longer afford to heat the property, let alone maintain it. Even those who have no outstanding debts and own their homes outright are living in fear of the forthcoming budget, of being made redundant and of a possible property tax.

I’m aware of one elderly woman, who can talk of nothing other than her financial situation since the value of her life savings, invested in bank shares, dropped so dramatically. She has become obsessed with the idea that she might not have enough money to “see her down”, is no longer eating properly and only barely heats one room in her home.

Fine art auctioneers say they are now selling the entire contents of large period homes. In some cases, the furniture and paintings have been passed down from generation to generation; in others, they are recent acquisitions, bought at the height of boom. “We’re taking pieces back to auction again, from people we sold to only a few years ago.”

Four different people have recently told me they are now renting their homes back from the banks, as deals were done when these properties were quietly and discreetly repossessed.

An architect explained how his children were distraught at being removed from their fee-

paying, private school, a banker admitted he hated being part of what was now going on and was looking forward to retiring, and the owner of a chain of shops revealed that he wakes up with his heart thumping a couple of times a night. Relationships are strained, nerves are frayed and people are living from day to day. Nothing is quite what it seems anymore but the veil of shame is gradually beginning to lift and people are voicing their anger and concern.

Some, like Joe McNamara, the driver of the concrete mixer left at the gates of Leinster House, will make very public protests, others will do so more discreetly and a few will continue to sidle up to chat with yours truly (the reluctant property agony aunt) in the supermarket isle. One way or the other, the floodgates are now well and truly open.

Isabel Morton is a property consultant