It is well and truly a hot summer’s day, in the ilk of a summer’s day in Australia.

On Friday, I took Domino down to Emsworth, and we walked along the coast. The tide was out and, the boats were a long way away. It is not the same as Salcombe in Devon, where we holidayed for a few years when the children were very young. But it shares big tides, big skies and lots of boats. The boats are afloat and ready to move when the tide is in, or they are marooned and look forlorn and dejected, lolling on their sides, waiting for the sea to return and make voyage possible.

After our early summer holidays in Salcombe, I dismissed the idea of it being part of the fabric of our lives. But at the end of 2000, something changed that, positively, for good. A close friend and her husband, who I shall call Mr and Mrs Connecticut as that is where they live (a pheasant and stag amongst the Yankees), asked whether I could recommend someone to help with the interiors of their new house in Salcombe, down near South Sands. It was an ex-guest house, with stunning views through the headlands – possibly one of the best views in Britain. There were five bedrooms in the main house, and there was also a loft dormitory, perfect for youngsters. There was garage with space underneath, which could be turned into overflow accommodation.

I cheekily suggested me. They didn’t flinch. By then I had undertaken several building projects at Elms Crescent, our house in Clapham. I had cut my teeth on it!

They said that they would like to hear my thoughts. We arranged a site visit. I pitched for the job in the sitting room.

The house was tasteless. It had curved arches between rooms, which were of the wrong proportion. Walls eclipsed the views when you reached the ground floor. The bathrooms were avocado green, although thankfully they were in the right place in the bedrooms overlooking the sea.

In my mind’s eye, I saw a plan. Don’t forget my father, Stan, and my brother, Shaun, are superb builders. I watched them work over the years.

I took a deep breath and started to explain my ideas. I said that two walls on the ground floor should be removed so that you could see the sea immediately when coming down the stairs, that French doors should be installed in the kitchen and dining room to maximise the view, that the ground floor should be open plan from the kitchen to the dining room to the double drawing room, that all curved arches should be squared up and that large bespoke doors should be installed between the dining and drawing room for privacy or quiet. I wanted a New England look inside, with shaker panelling low down, with a blue rather than green palate, to reflect the sea.

They loved my ideas and hired me. They were exceedingly generous in my remuneration. They were just wonderful. It was a project of a lifetime. I made some mistakes. I put the loo under a sloping ceiling, so Mr Connecticut bangs his head if he isn’t thinking.

Mr Connecticut had not seen the house in the nine months since work commenced at the end of 2000. I went down to check it was in order the week before they were due in August 2001, and to my horror I found that it was far from ready. The builders were working around the clock.

I arrived with my friends Niki and Jo and all our children (Mrs C suggested that I combine work with a little holiday), to find that there were workmen swarming around the house like ants. Instead of enjoying the finished project and doing last minute styling, we were climbing over saws and nails. I was a nervous wreck that it wouldn’t be finished in time. Thankfully, the weather was superb like today is promising to be, and we spent all out time at the beach.

Phew, the paint was just about dry when the family arrived. The moment came to unveil my work. I shall never forget seeing Mr Connecticut’s look of joy when he arrived on the ground floor, and he took in the breath-taking view.

And being their friend, I am loaned the house off season from time to time, and we are invited to visit when they are in situ. What a gift. This couple are hospitality personified. Just like the Keelings, who holiday there with them and are their best friends.

And being a fish out of water in Britain, it is magical to be back by the sea when we go there. I always think of that first visit with my parents, Stan and Bev, and I feel close to them when I’m there. It is a comfort, as Elms Crescent has gone, and they never visited the houses we moved onto.