The message is no longer in the box, says ISABEL MORTON

THERE ARE very few things about this recession, which have given me cause for glee, but the demise of the glass box kitchen extension is one of them.

I’ve yet to see one that looks at ease with the property to which it’s been attached. They tend to look like Perspex storage boxes that fell off the back of a Martian’s flying saucer and landed unceremoniously in the rear gardens of earthling homes.

They popped up everywhere during the boom years but are particularly prevalent in the red-brick Dublin 6 area, where gargantuan edifices were often stuck on to the back of otherwise perfectly normal Victorian and Edwardian terraced and semi-detached properties. (If you don’t believe me, try looking via the Birdseye view on Google Maps and you’ll soon see what I mean.)

When these triple-glazed structures were first completed, their proud owners often hosted a series of “casual kitchen supper parties” to show off their architect-designed extension and bore their guests to tears with guided tours, including demonstrations of the smart-home technology, designer kitchen appliances and mood lighting.

Of course, once “the outside had been brought in”, the suburban gardens, now greatly diminished in size but clearly visible from every corner of the glass box extension, had to be cleared of anything which remotely resembled nature, and ruthlessly landscaped, to create the second of my pet hates, the “outdoor room”.

These were all about making a “seamless link” between the house and garden, so the kitchen floor tiles ran straight out to the patio, (where they required regular and vigorous cleaning to keep them looking like those within), vast folding doors opened fully, as though removing an entire wall, sound systems and mood lighting were extended to the far corners of the garden, and fake plantings, from permanently lush green grass to permanently neat box hedging, were used wherever possible to avoid (heaven forbid) the inconvenience of having children get grass stains on their clothes or muck on their feet.

These areas were decorated, as one might furnish formal reception rooms, with “installations” (by trendy young Irish artists), sculptures and water features (the soothing sound of running water became a must-have) and children’s bespoke playhouses, which were designed as mini replicas of the “main residence”, to ensure that the little darlings felt at home.

Needless to say, these outdoor rooms had to be maintained with nail-scissors precision and unfortunate Filipino employees were often spotted sweeping and cleaning outside, in all weather conditions.

But times have changed, and now that homeowners have recovered from the initial shock of the Celtic Catastrophe, the few who still have a bob or two are quietly accepting the “we-

are-where-we-are” mantra and are making the best of things.

Technically, (as every estate agent will regularly remind you) there has never been a better time to trade-up but many who have been burnt to a crisp by property investments are now going to extreme lengths to avoid “engaging” with the property market.

The thought of having to go through the torturously slow property sales process and the inevitable rental period prior to finding the house-of-your-

dreams is bad enough, but if on top of all that you have to negotiate a new mortgage deal, then it becomes virtually unbearable. Hence, the slow but steady increase in the number of people deciding to stay put and spend their savings on extending and renovating their existing home.

Don’t be fooled by the absence of sky-high cranes, massive hoardings, reinforced concrete structures, teleporters, flashy advertising boards, convoys of concrete pumps queuing to disgorge their loads and queues of Eastern Europeans buying breakfast rolls. Instead, look out for discreetly hidden yellow skips, a few battered commercial vans, block elevators, electric concrete mixers, wheelbarrows and weathered men demolishing doorstep-sized homemade sandwiches.

For these small builders working on private domestic jobs, some things have not changed, such as having to pay top-dollar for building materials and insurance, but others have altered dramatically, such as labour costs, which have been cut to the bone, and their profit margins, which are now very tight. But, despite it all, most admit that they are happy enough to be working at all.

And their clients, the homeowners, although still looking for a big, bright living space, are less intent on creating a “wow factor” extension and more interested in constructing something more in keeping with the scale and style of their existing property.

Isabel Morton is a property consultant