9 Blogworld Road

I've applied for a house. It's lovely. Art deco with huge south-facing windows and a roof terrace overlooking a vast verdant garden that stretches down to the banks of a wide flowing river. The previous occupants were a gay couple, designers who created the most beautiful, witty living and party spaces you could imagine, lots of warm jewel soft furnishings offset by crisp white walls and polished oak floors and panelling. The en-suite in the master bedroom is a bit OTT, rather too much use of gold mosaic tiles, but the surveyor said they were real leaf so they will be staying put and the double-ended jacuzzi bath might be a bit redundant - it's too big to lie and read in, my feet wouldn't touch the end and I'd keep slipping under and get my pages wet.

There's a little boathouse tucked away at the bottom of the garden. I think someone might have been sleeping in it but there were no unpleasant smells or signs of substance misuse so I'll probably let it pass, at least until I can afford a little skiff for lazy Sunday afternoon floating picnics in the summer.

It's not the house that is the biggest draw though, fabulous as it is, but the exclusive location and neighbours. They are a lively creative set, possibly a little intimidating on first appearance given their obvious talents but I've already met a few of them and they are truly charming, warm welcoming folk. I can't wait to have them over for supper, maybe just a few at a time initially, get to know them individually, lull them into believing I'm a mild-mannered, polite hostess, given to occasionally raucous laughter but otherwise benign before unleashing the full-blown all-night party queen at the Official House Warming Bash in the Spring ( Bring Your Own Towel). That gives me time to practice some moves on the flagpole half way down the lawn.

The best bit is that there's no chain, no need to call in slimy estate agents, crummy conveyancers or bait my breath until my buyers sign a contract. I've already written to the Chairman of the Residents' Association and she's given me a free pass to the community until my references come through so I think I'm going to spend the rest of the weekend wandering around there, hoping to catch sight of the monkeys in the trees, enjoying the brass band as it marches up the street and generally smiling at everyone, hoping they like me and most importantly, spotting where the single guy lives.

There are still properties available to suit all requirements; it's tax-free, cost-free and you don't have to wait weeks for a decent builder. Maybe we can be neighbours.