I would never share a joint bank account with my husband, even though he is an accountant and we have been married for 30 years!

The coat was one of those heartbreaking purchases where the desire for the item was pitted against the pain of the price. But I couldn’t resist. A woolen shawl in baby blue – my favourite colour. I simply had to have it.

Luckily, I didn’t have to secretly hide the coat at the bottom of the closet and hope that no one would notice when the amount was debited from my bank account.

And when my husband Martin saw me wearing it and asked, ‘How much did that cost?’, it was my choice whether I wanted to spend the money I spent on it.

I remained vague. After all, it is my money. Why shouldn’t I splurge once in a while? That’s the joy of separate accounts, which we’ve had for 33 years of marriage. And there are no plans to change the status quo.

Of course, since Martin is an accountant, I have always left the decisions regarding our financial situation to him, such as the choice of mortgage providers, home insurance and emergency plumbing work.

Martin has managed the finances of others for over 35 years and worked at one of the largest accounting firms in the country before starting his own business. We, as a family, can benefit from his knowledge without having to share a joint account.

Despite my implicit trust in Martin in such matters, I have never wanted us to have some kind of communal pool into which we could dump our combined income – even though he is by far the biggest earner. Instead, I steadfastly refuse to let him exercise any direct control over the money I earn. And I have no say over his income.

This isn’t about the fear of Martin extorting my hard-earned money to pay for his admittedly expensive bike fix (more on that later). Rather, it means we have an agreement on the contributions we make for shared needs, while being financially independent on the rest.

Because he has the highest income, Martin pays the mortgage and he has calculated an amount that I pay him each month by direct debit.

When it comes to household bills, we divide and conquer. Martin handles all the boring utilities – like water, electricity and gas.

With his forensic accounting eye, he seems better placed to handle the tough task of finding the best deals. I have more to do with the day-to-day household expenses like food bills – since I mostly run the kitchen. I also pay for treats and holidays and all my own expenses, including driving my car. While Martin and I are happy with separate accounts, some friends and colleagues see it almost as a tacit admission of a fault line in the marriage. They think it’s a sign of a lack of trust – and there’s research to back this up.

Scientists from Indiana University’s Kelley School of Business concluded that couples with a joint bank account not only have better relationships, but also argue less about money and feel better about the household’s finances.

Still, our arrangement has served our domestic harmony well, and of the things couples can argue about, money is not one of them. Not least because of the many advantages of our arrangement. For example, there is no resentment if one partner chooses to indulge in purchases – as long as they fulfill their side of the joint financial obligations.

Take the fact that Martin is a hugely enthusiastic cyclist. At one point he had five bikes in the garage, despite only owning one. He also bought a £2,000 Peloton exercise bike. Do I mind how much he spends on his hobbies, given that the cost of mine is much more modest (I have one outdoor bike, no gadgets and do a couple of weekly gym classes)?

Frankly – and this is the bit that friends with joint accounts have trouble calculating – it’s his money. He works long hours for every penny he earns. So, as long as there’s a roof over our heads, the electricity isn’t cut off, and there aren’t bailiffs at the door, who cares?

My biggest gripe, really, is Martin cranking up the Peloton to deafening levels as he stomps through a class. Sometimes you can’t avoid a hyper instructor shouting over an Abba soundtrack. And I don’t have to justify to him how I spend my money, either. Handy when I’m forced to fork out a few hundred quid after popping my car mirror open (Him: “Again?” Me: “Nobody asks you to pay for it”). Or when I decide we need to go on holiday and book a flight in advance.

When our son missed his train to a university open day due to his bad timing, I had to pay a whopping £70 at the station for another ticket. I didn’t tell his father to avoid the added headache of Martin angrily and repeatedly asking why our boy had been so careless.

We have mirror wills (two wills that we both made) in which we name each other as the primary beneficiary. More evidence that egalitarian ethos underpins our divided finances.

Martin pays the mortgage and he has calculated an amount that I pay him monthly by direct debit.

Having separate accounts also has emotional benefits for a marriage. It means you can buy gifts or plan surprises without the other half knowing.

Martin has a special birthday coming up soon and I can already think about what we can buy for him and how we can celebrate his birthday as a family.

Having separate accounts was a seamless extension of the way we both got married in 1990. Neither of us saw the need to change the status quo.

We were never very good at sharing. For example, after we had decorated the house, the agreement was that since I got home from work before him, I would cook and he would clean up afterward.

This became an increasingly serious issue, as Martin spent the entire evening doing the dishes. All this changed when he came home from work one day with a dishwasher in the trunk of his car. “There you are,” he called out in a flourish. “You don’t have to keep nagging me.” He was right. A simple, unquestionable purchase with his money offered the perfect route back to domestic harmony.

I should add that having a separate account is not about fiercely defending hard-headed independence. Nor is it about a lack of trust. In fact, it should be noted that for some women, there is a huge risk involved in pooling their money with a husband.

According to the charity Surviving Economic Abuse, one in six women in the UK have experienced financial abuse from their current or former partner, which can include having their access to money restricted.

A particularly difficult issue for those who only have a joint bank account in their name. So it is a decision that must reflect a strong and trusting dynamic.

Will my children, two of whom are married, follow? That is up to them to decide. The good thing is that there is an alternative to joint accounts. That is now a joint decision.

How do you and your partner manage your joint finances? Let us know at moneymail@dailymail.co.uk