I have a theory about property purchases. Somewhere between the ages of three and six we subconsciously make up our minds about the types of houses we’ll eventually end up buying, commissioning, renovating and moving into. And this is especially true for discretionary homes – the ones where we spend our holidays.

Ten years ago, against the rather sensible advice of my mother, I bought an island in the Swedish archipelago. I wasn’t really in the market for an escape from my primary base in London but a weekend with Stockholm-based friends, Christina and Claus, turned me on to the delights of endless summer evenings, chilly dips in the water, no air conditioning and simple, built-for-purpose houses.