1. The beach feels completely different today. The waves are fiercer (almost like the sea on a proper beach) and, aside from the dunes which are as powdery as always, the sand is heavier, not as pretty as yesterday. Kite surfers and land surfers zip to and fro, their journeys occasionally interrupted by slow twisting leaps, and the whole place feels like its bristling with energy, not the peaceful calm we usually feel.

1b. The world doesn’t disappear at Formby Point today. We can see the wind turbines, distant hills and a fuzzy shape on the horizon which is probably a boat or a rig but which looks like some sort of magical castle floating on the water.

2. John ducks down on the field and, suspicious, the people in the conservatory a few houses down stand up to watch him. Lily finally responds to John’s calls and the two take advantage of the flat green and gambol around in a wide circle. When we turn back to the makeshift bridge, the people have sat down again, satisfied that John is silly rather than a threat.

3. While John has his coffee, my mum and I stroll along Lord Street. I suggest we duck into an old arcade, one that I have barely been in because it holds little more than an antique shop (and that wasn’t exactly a main port of call for my teenage self). I later tell Mum my reason for exploring it: it’s never been a particularly conscious concern but not knowing what was inside there has haunted my dreams for years.

4. The novelty of daylight on our journey home: we can see the giant head, falling down buildings and the rolling moorland all around us.

5. The cats stay close all evening. At one point Strange leans her sleepy head on John’s leg and Kaufman, curled up in Lily’s belly, does the same to the dog.