Tui bellows with laughter again and Kit’s approving eyes meet mine. Griff, meanwhile, is limbering up to throw, making a big show of extending his arm and lining up the shot by squinting into the distance.

‘Oh, get on with it, you great ape,’ says Allie, and Griff swings around.

‘Oi!’ he cries. ‘You’ll give a guy a complex one of these days.’

‘Will you two stop bloody bickering?’ tuts Kit. ‘They’re always like this,’ he explains to me. ‘Makes me glad to be an only child.’

Griffin misses his shot and curses in good humour, and then Allie steps up to take her turn, throwing wide of the target and swearing with a gusto that makes Kit raise both his eyebrows at me. When he gets into position a moment later, Allie promptly moves in behind him and slips a hand into the back pocket of his shorts.

‘Lay off, woman,’ he says, wriggling away. ‘You’re distracting me.’

Allie pouts.

‘If you don’t want me to grab your backside, stop sticking it out,’ she replies, tossing her hair over one shoulder. I decide that there’s definitely an element of the stroppy mare about her, and wish I could placate her with a Polo mint as easily as I used to do with Suki.

Kit ignores the comment, and Allie only just steps out of the way in time to avoid being knocked over sideways by the swing of his right arm. The Frisbee soars through the air, curling up and around the trunks of several trees, before landing neatly in the net.

‘Yes!’ he yells triumphantly, unable to hide his delight.

‘That,’ says Griff, turning to me, incredulous, ‘is how it’s done.’