The Eastwood method, it seems, is to prepare everything meticulously, do the scene in one take, and go, no messing. He paced in and out of our house setting up the angles – a sight that, frankly, was as thrilling the fifth time as it was the first. The cab drew up, and Damon was filmed peering anxiously through its steamy window as a boy got out; then they shot the boy walking to the door and being let in. And that was it. A wrap, signalled by one of the crew doing a sort of chicken dance in front of the camera, to general guffaws, not least from the director. Afterwards, I heard him murmur to someone that the house didn’t look much like the other one. You probably need a sense of humour to say that, given that the day had cost – what, £100,000, maybe more?