Basil can’t believe Southwold and immediately christens it Pleasantville. It certainly does seem to have exactly the same sort of people wearing exactly the same sort of clothes (no shell-suits here) as it did when I met H here 40 years ago.

Running with the horns after me goes well – we even film in the churchyard, only a few yards away from Mum and Dad’s grave. However, whilst making one spectacular leap through the crowd into the High Street I feel a muscle pull at the top of my right thigh. Very irritating as there is a lot more running to do. Whilst crew lunch at the Lord Nelson, I sit up in Room 19 with a bag of ice on my thigh.

In the afternoon we break off from the running to shoot me reading Hemingway in a deckchair opening sequence on the beach. The sun is out and children build sandcastles and run into the sea, but the east wind is sharp and quite cold. The camera is on the end of a remote control rig. It takes forever to get a fairly simple move right. Nineteen takes eventually.

The pain in my leg is increasing. Much talk over dinner in the Swan as to whether it’s a groin or thigh injury. The word ‘groyne’ appears all over the beach, causing much amusement – especially one which warns: ‘Beware, Derelict Groynes’.

A walk round the old haunts after dinner – up Godyll Road and across the Common. The way I went on the night Mother died. Sit on the seat that bears her name, outside the Red Cross hut.