If the home had been built anywhere else, its asking price would run into eight figures. But the only access to the property is via a right of way less than six feet wide which slices from the street at an angle of forty-five degrees between the two adjacent properties. There’s no parking, of course. There’s no exterior space at all other than the rooftop and a narrow swimming pool – designed for exercise rather than recreation – that takes up the entire rear garden.

The house is smaller than ours in terms of square feet but the use of space is so effective the floorplan looks like a work of art. It’s changed hands just once since it was built. According to land registry records, it’s currently owned by Salome Ltd, a company with two directors, Felix and Stacey Porter. They bought it twelve years ago, just after Ms Porter got her gig on morning television.

I know all of this because I’ve stalked this house for years.

The first time I saw it was when I was out jogging with Peter in his pushchair, making efficient use of my maternity leave. We were living across the river then, in a two-bedroom flat in Wandsworth. At the time, it was all we could afford.

I stopped on the pavement so abruptly Peter almost got whiplash. It’s the closest I’ve ever come to understanding the phrase coup de foudre.

A stroke of lightning: this is my house. It just didn’t know it yet.

As soon as I got home, I told Tom I’d found the house we were going to grow old in. He knew better than to dismiss it as a fantasy, even though we could barely keep up the payments on the Wandsworth mortgage.

The following weekend, we stood on the pavement outside the home and agreed: the Glass House got a free pass.

Other couples keep lists of celebrities with whom they’re allowed to sleep without recrimination should they ever have the opportunity.

We have a list of houses.

Five each. If any of them becomes available, and we’re financially able to swing it, the other party has no choice but to agree.

I’ve had property crushes before, of course, but never like this. There was a stunning apartment in Narni, a hilltop town in Umbria, in central Italy, that captured my heart a few years ago. An extraordinary house on the Pacific West Coast with sweeping views of the ocean we saw on a trip to California the summer before last. But the Glass House is my one true love. There’s something about the property’s cool self-assurance, its uncompromising commitment to form over function. This is not a house that will ever apologise for being what it is.