No, house prices are not falling

It's just a summer blip.

Time to don youy hard hats, cancel this winters ski trip and think twice about the kids school fees, house prices have dropped by 1.8 per cent compared to July. The time for panic though may be a little premature however: what the newly released figures from Rightmove, a property website, have shown is no more than the annual summer blip. In fact since January house prices have continued to rise by 5.5 per cent, the fastest rate since 2006 and that’s £20,000 on January’s average house price of £230,000.

But is a rise in house prices really something to be happy about? Even if we dismiss the much publicised concerns over first time buyers (hard to do I know) the rise in prices may have greater worries for us all. One of the areas for concern is the ability to deal with inflation, as almost any rise in house price will mean higher levels of debt among households.

Even at just 2.8 per cent inflation is outstripping wage rises by 1.1 per cent month on month according to the office of national statistics. That’s a real terms wage cut of 1.1 per cent per month for everyone compared to the price of things like food. Conventional logic dictates that the Bank of England (BoE) cuts inflation back by raising interest rates when that happens, poverty not being a popular condition in a democracy.

But the Bank of England is doing the opposite. They hope that by keeping the lending rate at 0.5 per cent banks will lend more, and in turn we will spend more, boosting the economy. But after four years the BoE has not changed its policy despite banks stubbornly refusing to lend ro all but the safest bets. So maybe there’s another reason to keep rates low?

Maybe the answer lies in the fears of a collapsing housing bubble, a housing bubble so huge it can’t be inflated away.

Mortgage default levels have remained low despite rising unemployment and lower wages. This has been because the main affect of the crisis was that the BoE cut rates to record lows of just 0.5 per cent.  This helped the overleveraged homeowner from defaulting when living costs rose but their wages didn’t. The new rates gave them a cushion on which to land softly.

Any rise in the BoE rate though will pull away that cushion and the bump will be a hard one. Politically a hard bump is unacceptable. Voters could suddenly be homeless or struggling to pay debts. Any government in power when this happens can effectively say goodbye to any chance of a return to power, no matter how independent the BoE is supposed to be.

Therefore the pressure on the BoE to keep rates low and let house prices climb must be huge, if unspoken. The problem is that it’s a short sighted policy. Even if the average homeowner is not likely to default today or tomorrow because they can afford the low repayments, those repayments will inevitably be squeezed by other rapidly rising costs of living. Sooner or later there may not be enough money in the house-holders pockets to pay for all their outgoings including their mortgage. And by holding rates low, the BoE has no room for manoeuvre. Raise rates and be seen to cause a property crash, or keep rates low, increase our daily costs and cause a crash anyway.

They are caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

So maybe it is time to don our hard hats and cancel that holiday. Not because house prices are falling, but because they’re not.

Photograph: Getty Images

Mike Cobb is a reporter at Private Banker International

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A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear