Don’t worry about my sanity, you’ll see what I mean when you look at the photographs taken a little earlier. The “Orange Army” vanguard had taken position along the sea wall directly in front of our house even before we went to bed last night (this night – it’s still night) and the blazing lights outside cast an ethereal glow through our heavy curtains; the sounds of generators, men and machinery – thrumming, humming and clanking – though usual now, still prevented me from sleeping for an hour or two. Instead of counting sheep I tried to think of the sounds as music and eventually, I was lulled to sleep by the even closer, and more rhythmic, sound of Chris’s stentorious breathing (or snoring).

At four o’clock I was awoken suddenly by the invasion – I thought it was Judgement Day, Revenge of the Machines (as in the Terminators films). Our bedroom had become filled with an even greater light, which emanated from an enormous machine moving slowly along the railway track. I went to the window and saw perhaps thirty or more men, all wearing helmets and orange uniforms, and all turned my way, from their positions on the wall on the other side of the track. By the time I had returned with my Canon camera, the machine had moved on and the full regiment had dispersed into smaller marauding groups. Wearing only my convict-style onesie, I braved the elements to take these shots whilst Chris slept on, blissfully unaware of all the excitement.