I don’t expect him to start laughing, like proper belly-laughing, so hard that the seat shakes. ‘It’s a maize maze, Leah. Maize with an i. It’s ah-maze-ing fun! The sign is an invitation, not an insult.’

‘It’s a maze … made of sweetcorn?’ He nods and I lean forward then back to get a better view around him. ‘Wow, I’ve never seen anything like that before. It looks … ah-maze-ing.’ I try to see through the back window as it disappears behind us. Green ears of corn that must be taller than me line the edges along the road, and I get the feeling that you’d need to see it from above to get a clearer picture. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? I’ve seen the horror films, Noel. Bad things happen in fields of corn.’

He laughs again. ‘Just another way to maximise revenue. I was growing corn anyway, so I thought why not grow it with proper paths between it to create a maze and let kids run around in there. The corn’s tall enough by late July so I open it seven days a week in the summer holidays, then weekends only until the October half-term when it’s open all the time and the corn’s much taller, and of course the pumpkin patch is open too so people can come for a real family fun day out. At the end of the season, I cut the corn and sell it, and in the spring, I dig over the field and replant it in a different formation so it’s never the same maze twice if people come back year after year. One of my favourite jobs is designing the maze each year.’

‘Wow,’ I say, struggling for any other words. There really does seem to be nothing he can’t do. He’s creative and outdoorsy, and he seems to do so much to stay in business year-round.

I can sense his eyes on me and he must be able to tell how impressed I am, because he says, ‘There are a few around the UK, it’s nothing original before you tell me I’m a genius again.’

I poke another bit of pumpkin spice muffin into my mouth to avoid replying. I do think he must be a bit of a genius when it comes to farm stuff, but he obviously doesn’t like hearing it. ‘You’re really busy, aren’t you?’