Sunday afternoon and we were two days into the festival with the Jack Tobin Cup and the mackerel fishing competition to go on Monday. Saturday night had ended with two of us propping up the bar in Arundel’s the place so full we couldn’t get out even though there was no money left for another pint.

The weekend was starting to take on the feel of a long drawn out wedding party. Barely familiar faces on Friday night were now being greeted like old friends and there was goodwill in the air buoyed on by Graham Norton’s performance on the Friday night and the worst of any rain holding off.

Around 11.00 Sunday morning the roads were cut off and we were stuck in the Cottage bang next to the pier where all the activity for the day was to take place.

The activity started with coastal gig racing. The road and pier was clogged with rowers and their families and the trailers carrying carrying the heavy sea going rigs. They raced from the point off Owen island back to the pier and continuous stream of commentary coming from the four large speakers strung up along the pier.

Then there was regatta spread out over the afternoon with swimming races and the greasy pole, car bashing, a water slide and a bucking rodeo horse.

The afternoon concluded with the duck chase. Twenty or so boys stood on the pontoon ready to jump in to give chase as soon as the duck was let loose in the water from the boat a few yards off. Galen was amongst the boys.

The commentary then started, ‘Boys are you ready? Boys are you ready?! Tadgh has the duck there in the boat. There is no jumping in the water until its out of its cage. And boys we want a clean competition so don’t be rough on the duck. Don’t forget now the duck is some other ducks mother and we don’t want to leave those ducklings as orphans. Boys are you ready? Tadgh I think the boys are ready and you can let the duck out now. Boys the duck is in the water so you better get after it. But boys please be gentle with the duck.’

‘Boys the duck is winning this chase. Can none of you swim any harder? The duck will get away. Tadgh won’t be pleased if none of you catch it and he loses his duck. Boys you have to swim harded!’

‘And there is a lad there who had it but he let it get away. I tell you that duck has a smart pair of legs and its pulling away again. Are there no men in the water amongst you boys able to get a hand on this duck?’

‘Now that lad had a hand to it. So how did he get away. Boys the duck is heading for land. Boys can you hear me its heading for thje pub garden. The duck wants a pint. Boys there are dogs in the garden and I don’t want the cup to go to a dog.’

‘There’s so much noise now I can’t see the duck. Has he got him? Has he got him?!’

‘There don’t kill him now. Put him up in the air now! But not by the neck!’

Galen was out of the water in his blue trunks standing amongst the tables and drinkers in Arundel’s garden holding duck aloft by its neck.

‘We have the winner. We have the winner! Now the duck likes to roam a bit and he’s yours for the year. He likes to be fed now three four times a day. The eggs you can sell on if you want. So give him a big round of applause now ladies and gentlemen.’

Galen walked the duck back to the pier. He was holding it properly now and it appeared to have survived being grabbed round the scruff of its neck. It was shovelled back into its box and Galen was given one of its fresh eggs as a prize. He was then called up to the pub to be given a plaque.

Later we ate smoked mackerel kedgeree. The mackerel caught that afternoon off a kayak from the point near Owen Island.

After that the kids pressed for another trip to the pub. We walked up to Arundel’s and there was a band playing in the marquee round the back. We went in and found some seats. Pints were drunk. The band played Satisfaction. There was Dad dancing involved and all kids were embarrassed.

Last Saturday in Ahakista and we had three lobsters from Tommy Arundel. This time I thought I would do something different with them. On the two previous occasions we have had lobsters we had them boiled with a garlic butter sauce. This time I thought I would have a go making a soup.

In preparation I had taken a bag of fish bones and heads off the fish stall at Bantry Market.

So I started by putting these into a large pan in which I had sweated two chopped onions, garlic and a bit of chilli. I poured in a couple of pints of water and pushed in a bunch of fennel from the pier patch and seasoned it all with salt, pepper, paprika and some Pernod I found in the cupboard.

Once the stock was made I boiled the lobsters in sea water for about twenty minutes. I took them out to cool and started work on a tomato sauce; olive oil, another large finely chopped onion, loads of crushed garlic, more chilli and two tins of tomatoes.

As that bubbled away I split the lobsters picking out as much meat as I could and putting it all to one side, cracking the claws with a big heavy knife and teasing out the nuggets of pale pink meat.

I put the heads to one side and poured most of the stock into the tomato sauce. I found just the one strand of saffron in the cupboard and I put that in.

In another pan I heated some olive oil on a high heat and threw in the heads crushing them as best I could with a wooden spoon. As they seethed and spat in the heat I poured in a glass of the Pernod and flamed that off before adding the remaining cup full or so of the stock. That cooked through for five minutes and was then drained through a sieve into the tomato sauce.

I was left with a thick, unctuous, aniseedy tomato sauce which was left to bubble gently for fifteen minutes while people were assembled to eat. When all was ready the lobster meat was stirred in with some finely chopped parsley.

Eaten with croutons flavoured with Desmond Cheese.

I listened the The Allman Brother’s Band whilst making it all.

We then went to the pub. And then to another pub. In fact we went on a pub crawl. It was another late night. I wore a skirt but I am not sure that anyone noticed.

Saturday morning and there is a Murphy’s tanker parked outside Arundel’s Pub refilling the tanks and even though the sun is out and it is past midday people are still sleeping in their beds trying to piece together those parts of the night before that have not yet surfaced in the memory.

So last night was the opening of this years August Bank Holiday Ahakista Festival and it started with a quiz night in the marquee behind the pub hosted by our famous neighbor Mr. Graham Norten. Tickets went on sale four weeks ago and they were gone in a few days. For the last two weeks whenever we mentioned we had tickets for the night there were gasps of envy. They have been like gold dust on the Sheep’s Head.

We started the evening by eating most of the food we had bought at Bantry Market that morning including a great chunk of smoked ham from Gubbeen, small mozzarella balls and a large plateful of cheese. I am not sure how I managed to avoid buying a Tractor DVD – but I did.

We then walked the hundred yards to the pub for a quick pre-quiz pint to help steady the nerves. There was a buzz of excitement when the evening’s host arrived resplendent in a rather fine blue jacket. People gathered around for photos and autographs. We should have brought with us the tattered copy we have of his autobiography to get that signed as well.

We were then called into the marquee for the main event. Names were carefully ticked off the list and phones confiscated at the door. Demand was such that extra table were set up in the pub.

Each tabled was named and numbered and had in its centre a hollowed out pineapple filled with pina colada. That went before the questions started and so we put in our order for pints and white wine.

The quiz then started the questions being relayed to the pub by walkie-talkie. Needless to say our ability to answer the questions started to deteriorate as the evening went on and pints were consumed. The highlight was knowing which band Richie Sambora had helped form and the low point getting wrong the largest island in the Med.

There were eighty questions in all with a break in the middle for comfort and more pints to be consumed. The noise level rose in the second half and when were asked who narrated Thomas the tank engine there was a collective muttering of Ringo Starr. There is only so much you can do under your breathe when pints have been drunk.

Out host slugged his way through the questions, chiding us over the easy ones and being suitable rude when required. By the time the questions were finished the evening had turned raucous. A crowd spilled into the tent for the announcement of the winners. The prizes appeared to be three glass vases in diminishing sizes. It was questionable as to whether the largest was first price or for the team that came third.

We did not win. The winning teams came from the pub. Presumably there was something in the way the questions were flashed over the walkie-talkie.

Having failed to dismally to get in the running there was nothing for it but to repair to the pub and a conciliatory pint or two with all two hundred other people who had failed to win.

Writing this now Friday afternoon sat at the table at the bottom of the garden the view looking out over the bay. The sun is bright enough for it to be difficult to find the icon on the screen of the laptop. The sea in front of me is silver with light but there are black clouds over Rosskerrig and I guess you would describe the weather as mixed.This time yesterday we were driving home from lunch in The Good Things Café. It was still raining although it was not as intense as it had been earlier in the day. Every stream that flowed out into the bay was engorged with water, brown spumes driving down from the hills and spilling out over the rocks and into the sea.

The Good Things Café has been going ten years this summer. I am not sure that we went the first year it opened but we have been there at least twice over the last nine years. Part of the enjoyment of it has been taking the kids there and watching how they have grown into the menu. When we first went we would quietly ask for a plate of pasta and tomato sauce to keep them happy. This summer they have been asking if we would be going to lunch there and yesterday they were tucking into the fish soup, gazpacho and pizza.

I had a starter of crab tart and then a squid stew with red wine. The squid was great, a deep dark intense with squid that will have been cooked for many hours. The family had to restrain me from licking the bowl.

After that it was a chocolate mousse, meraungues and icecream and then goodbye until next year. Unfortunately I seem to have bought myself out of the books that they have on their shelves.

When we got home we sat out the rain for another half hour and then it stopped and we were left with a warm hard breeze coming in from the sea. The water around the pier was coloured a rust red now from the soil brought down from the hills. Some of the boats were lying low in the water and we could see the water sloshing around in their bellies.

Galen and I motored out to Montbretia. That was at least two inches of water in the bottom of her and we spent half an hour pumping her out.

Some of the buckets in the garden were almost full with water so hard it had come down the previous two days.