Meet the human faces of the housing crisis
Katie Harrington, Galway, who lives in rented accommodation, says she will find it extremely difficult to buy her own home. Picture: Moya Nolan
Katie Harrington lived abroad in the Middle East for six years, where she saved up money for a house.
Despite the fact that the 32-year-old has a “pretty reasonable deposit together”, she is still finding getting on the property ladder in Galway close to impossible because she is a single applicant.
The self-employed communications professional said the lending cap of 3.5 times a person’s salary is a significant prohibitive factor.
“An added layer of complexity is that a couple of years ago, I became self-employed and what that means is even when I reach the level of income that they need to see from me, I need to have books that show that for three years.”
She added: “All in all, I’m not going to say it’s impossible, but it seems really unlikely that unless I meet someone, that I would be able to do it on my own.”
Katie is currently looking for properties in rural Galway, and would ideally like to purchase a cottage that she could refurbish:
"I’m looking at buying a home in Galway but there’s not a lot of property for single people, even though there are loads of us around of all ages."
The lack of financial support for prospective purchasers of second-hand homes is another issue she faces.
“How come the incentives that exist only exist for new builds when there are no new builds? If that Help to Buy scheme was available to me to do up a house that was dilapidated and run down and I could turn it into a really lovely home that would add it to the community, why can’t I have that same access?”
With these obstacles in the way, does she ever believe she will be able to own her own home? Most likely, it won’t be unless she inherits it from her family.
“My parents, because of the generation they’re in — and they did work really hard — they’ve accumulated a certain amount. They have their home and a rental home,” she said.
“Essentially my mom says in 15 or 20 years, it will belong to me, my brother and sister. I think that is just horrifying that the most likely way I am going to become a homeowner is to wait until I lose my parents.”
In the last economic crash, John Moynihan had just qualified as a carpenter, and a lack of work at home forced him to emigrate to Australia for two years.
Now, as the 32-year-old battles with the cost of rent in Cork City centre each month, he says returning home is his biggest regret.
“I worked there for two years straight and I earned more there in two years than I have in Ireland for my entire life. If it wasn’t for family members I would be gone back. I wish to God I never came home from Australia.
“It’s the biggest regret I’ve ever had.
John, who is a subcontractor, currently pays €1,600 a month to share a one-bedroom apartment with his girlfriend. They have just been informed that the rent will increase from June.
“I work six days a week. I work over 60 hours a week. I constantly work, morning, noon and night. And if I’m not at work, then I’m looking for work.
“If I don’t pick up work this week, then I don’t get paid this week. I’m living week to week. If I’ve a bad week, I’m totally, totally bolloxed trying to keep the car on the road on top of paying rent. I’m constantly fighting. Mentally, I’m drained.”
As the economy recovered from the crash, he thought work would increase. While the hours have, his income has not.
“We’re essential — we build houses for people when there’s a housing shortage in the country. Where are all the builders? They’ve left.
“The ones that are left in Ireland are struggling. I’m making the same money now weekly as I was during the crash before I went to Australia. Everything is inflating but wages aren’t.”
The ever-increasing cost of rent is another reason why he thinks he will never be able to own a home.
“I’ve been living out of home since I was 17, and never missed a month's rent, and can still not afford to buy a house. I’d probably have half a mortgage paid off by now.”
Sarah Manson was living with her partner in a one-bed apartment in Dublin more than three years ago when she learned the rent was going to increase by €400. Then she discovered she was pregnant.
Feeling like she was left with no other affordable options, she and her partner moved back home to Redcross, Co Wicklow.
The 31-year-old artist, who now has two young children, is currently living in Ballyrogan House, a renovated farmhouse turned arts centre, which is owned by her parents.
“When daddy bought the place back in the '80s, it was an old ruined farmhouse and yard. They built the cowshed and the hayshed into living spaces but not conventional living space. They’re studio space with living quarters,” she said.
“There are six houses in the complex and I’m renting what used to be where they would have the hay upstairs and the cattle and baby cows downstairs. So I’m living in a cowshed.”
Ms Manson said she is living at home, but not with her parents; instead, they are her landlords.
“We’ve got a really good thing going here. We’re really lucky. But it’s an unusual dynamic.
Sarah worked in an art gallery in Dublin prior to the pandemic, while her partner works in a restaurant in Wicklow town.
“Right before Covid hit, the two of us had full-time employment on a career path with an upward trajectory. It was all very positive. But the gallery closed its doors — they had to let me go, unfortunately. I’m still scraping to find employment here.
“Literally, in the first lockdown, we were having meetings with financial advisors and mortgage brokers. Because we’re not in full-time employment, the mortgage broker won’t even entertain us," she said.
Sarah says her main goal at the minute is to have “a place we can call our own, can make our own”.
With all of that said, how does she feel about the whole situation? Overwhelmed appears to be the answer.
“You need to be able to work, rent, work to buy — but then you also have to make enough money to keep your children alive and looked after, and then where do they go to school and how do they get there? It’s a lot.”
Declan Mills says young people have no hope of getting on the property ladder and will again be forced to emigrate thanks to a combination of high house prices, the treatment of workers and Ireland’s two-party system.
Declan Mills, 30, is in the process of finishing his PhD while also working in digital marketing. He lives in Castletroy, Limerick, with his girlfriend and a friend. He pursued higher education on the advice of a teacher, during the last recession, believing it to be his one shot at a better life.
However, despite good grades and years of experience, Declan finds himself stuck in entry-level jobs and therefore priced out a mortgage in the country he grew up in.
“When I was doing my Leaving Cert in 2008, one of my teachers told the class, go do a Masters after your degree, if you can afford it, it's your only hope of getting a job in this climate.
"After five years of working in a field. I'm still being told to go for entry-level jobs,” Declan said.
To get a mortgage for the house similar to the one Declan and his girlfriend currently share, the young couple would need a combined income of €80,000 and a deposit of €40,000. Something they don’t see as realistic any time soon.
For now, Declan says he will continue to rent. However, emigration is a real possibility.
"I cannot see myself living in Ireland for the rest of my life. In most of Western Europe, healthcare is better, house prices are cheaper, and the pay is higher.
Declan says he feels as if his generation, like many before him, are being shown the door by the current government who continuously fail to address the needs of lower-paid, younger workers.
“Because of this, the situation will never improve. All those angry young people who are motivated to go out and protest are gone.”
Lauren Higgs and her partner thought they were among “the lucky ones” after they were granted a mortgage.
However, the couple was left heartbroken after the lender snatched the loan back as Covid-19 swept through the country.
“We had paid our deposit, we signed our contract, finished all the things that you need to do like life insurance. We were waiting on the call to say that the drawdown was done and we could pick up the keys,” Lauren, 32, explained.
However, their broker informed them the deal had fallen through. They believe it was due to the fact they are both self-employed, with Lauren working as a graphic designer, and her partner working as a wedding videographer.
Losing out on the house was traumatic especially given the couple had gotten into a bidding war which dragged out the whole process.
“House prices in Wicklow are a joke, but this was more affordable. We were really excited about it. We had been back and forth for about eight months getting everything done.
"It was a nightmare. We just hit a brick wall. It was a bitter pill to swallow,” Lauren said.
The couple was so sure they had the house that they had taken photos outside it, to show friends and family.
The couple hopes they will be able to apply for a mortgage again once the ongoing Covid restrictions are lifted. However, Lauren, who was raised in Greystones says she, and others her age, are being priced out of the area, by people moving out from Dublin.
They are unsure if they will ever get a mortgage to allow them buy a house in Wicklow, or anywhere near work.
“Our friends are moving in with parents and unfortunately that's not an option for us. But that's what the majority of people in their mid-30s are doing. A lot of them with young babies and trying to make it work.
“They [the banks] dangle it in front of you and even if you can get to the very end, there are no guarantees of getting anything across the line.
"That was the most upsetting part, being self-employed and being proud of yourself having gotten to that stage and then it was pulled with little to no explanation.”
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