And assistance we got – in abundance. Beverley was ushered off to one caravan while I was taken off to a modern Sterling Eccles by a guy called Ken, who for all he was wearing his hair in a ponytail might as well have had ex-Para written across his forehead. Inside he found some cast-offs that would fit me and made tea while I put them on. Ken worked the steam yachts in the summer but migrated to Ibiza in the winter where he had a job as a bouncer.

‘It’s mostly Spaniards off-season,’ he said. ‘So it’s nothing like as rowdy.’

He had a Spanish wife on the island and attributed the success of his marriage to his prolonged absences every year.

‘I leave just as she’s getting sick of me,’ he said, ‘and I come back when she’s ready for some company.’

A cup of tea later I met up with Beverley outside. I got a pair of khaki shorts and a slightly too small Status Quo T-shirt. She got a leather biker vest and a pair of navy cargo pants. All she was missing was a couple of katanas and we could have gone zombie hunting together.

Although, for the record, in the event of the zombie apocalypse I’ll be looking to liberate a Warthog PPV from Regent’s Park Barracks just for that little bit of extra confidence while dealing with the walking dead.

Transport for us had been arranged in the form of a Series II Land Rover which, despite the marine blue paintjob and a painfully bodged repair to the right fender, was in amazingly good nick.

Leaning against the Land Rover was Lilly, daughter of the Teme, looking pale, pierced and pouty. She wore skinny black jeans and a matching Keep Calm and Listen to Siouxsie and the Banshees T-shirt with the neckline cut open so that it hung loosely off one shoulder.

She held up her hand in greeting as we approached and asked Beverley how it had gone.

‘Later,’ said Beverley and called shotgun, which meant I ended up in the back, where I’m fairly certain a sheep had ridden not long before. A very unwell sheep at that.

For a car that was older than my mother, it had a pretty decent stereo on which Lilly played Queen’s Greatest Hits but only, she explained, because her sister had borrowed her iPod and hadn’t given it back and Queen’s Greatest Hits was the only CD in the stereo. Maybe the sheep liked it.