This time last week (11.00pm Monday evening) I was still sat out on the small beach at the end of the Cottage’s garden in Ahakista. The sun had gone down an hour or so before but there was still some residual light left from it – apart from that the sky was a blaze of stars. There was no moon and the faint grey of the Milky Way arched above.

Earlier that evening I had cooked another seven lobsters on the BBQ. They had been split in the kitchen and then laid shell down over the hot coals. They had taken just over 20 minutes to cook. In truth I should have given them some more attention and shifted them around as they had cooked as some of the shells had started to burn from the fierce heat.

There was no Pernod left in the cupboard so this time I flamed them with the dregs of a bottle of Jameson Irish Whiskey before covering them with melted butter, garlic, salt and pepper.

We ate them sat round an open fire pulling them apart with our fingers and throwing the shells to the flames. The tide was out and the sea lay back on the beach exposing the blacks rocks and the waste of seaweed.

The jumper I was wearing is on the bed upstairs and it still smells of that fire – the sweet smell of burning wood, seaweed and lobster shells.