There is no great secret to the identity of our famous neighbour.

Lunchtime today there was a need for fresh air and so I took myself for a walk into Liverpool City Centre which with the wind blowing in off the Mersey can pass for fresh air on a good day. Walking past a bookshop I saw a copy of Graham Norton’s new autobiography and remembered that last week he had been on The One Show with a brief clip of Arundel’s Pub. I thought I would go in and have a flick through to see if he gave it a mention.

There was more than a mention. A whole chapter was given over to Ireland. Loitering  by the shelves in W.H. Smith there wasn’t enough time to read the whole chapter but I was able to give it a skim. There was pride at having a walk named after himself in Bandon and then a lead up on how he came to end up buying a house in Ahakista.

It transpires that he had ambitions on a white washed hidden away small cottage from where there would be a smell of freshly baked bread a grilled mackerel. It sounds as if he may have had his eyes on the Cottage!

There was then mention of the dilapidated state of the house when he bought it and I thought back guiltily to the summer ten years ago when we squeezed past the broken down gate and into the garden and some of us poked their heads through the missing windows to look on the rooms that were thick with damp and the the weather. Before he bought it there were a few years when it looked as if the house would crumble back into the hills and the sea.

There was a picture of a pineapple stuffed with a plastic cup and extruding straws and a low by blow description of last year’s pub quiz.

Before I put the book on the shelf my skimming eye was caught by a comment on not being any happier than arriving and driving down the short drive to the house.

I get that feeling still pulling up in the car on apron of concrete at the top end of the pier having done the drive up from Durrus and seen the wide expanse of Dunmannus Bay and the water clear and flat in the sun.

Should have asked him to the party! Next time perhaps.

It had been warm all day and over lunch the sun had come out over the cottage and we ate outside – although all-around there were clouds – we seemed exempt.

Late in the afternoon moving towards evening – around 7 o’clock – a pale low cloud came over but when you looked up over it there was still a hint of blue sky. There were boats fishing for mackerel off Owen Island on the incoming tide and a shallow golden mist had fallen over the Mizen. Having fallen it seemed to rise again. It was gold as the sun caught it adding other colours and depth so that behind Carberry Island it became impossible to tell what was cloud and what was the faint glimmer of the Mizen head. After a few minutes it cleared so that the Mizen and its mountains rose above the line of mist floating over the water inbetween. I could see them standing in the boats as they came in and that suggested activity in turn suggested that in the twenty or so minutes whilst the light and cloud had played over the bay mackerel had been caught.

Last night we ate piece of monkfish marinaded in yogurt with turmeric, ginger, garlic, cumin and lime juice. It was fried off quickly in hot oil and eaten with rice and cool tomato salad.

It has been an autumnal day. There was a wind last night and this morning looking out of the bedroom window the front of the house was awash with brown and orange leaves.

It was dry so over the afternoon I raked up the leaves and shovelled them with my hands into a black bin. When the bin was full I took it to a corner of the garden behind the greenhouse and emptied it out. I did that five times. Stamping on the leaves in the bin to compact them down so I could get more in. I finished with a pile of leaves as tall as me.

They took some burning and I must have annoyed all possible neighbours with the smoke the fire made. There was one raspberry left by the birds.

To set them alight I buried a small cardboard box filled with newspaper at the base of the pile and set a corner of paper alight. The cardboard and paper burned quickly enough but there was too much dampness in the leaves for them to catch properly. Instead a deep heat generated in the middle of the pile of leaves and as it got more intense the smoke billowed out across all the neighbouring gardens. Any flame only lasted a minute or so before burning itself out.

Every so often I raked the pile of leaves over covering up where the heat seemed most intense.

It was a good fire and after an hour most of the pile had gone.

For supper we ate the remains of the chicken I had cooked on Friday night with a vegetarian alternative made with aubergine.

In the meantime I cooked an ox’s heart for my sandwiches.

There has been a request for the recipe for the chicken cooked with strong coffee, brandy and honey.

It came from a book called Adventures in Greek Cooking: The Olive and the Caper by Susanna Hoffman and was called Chicken Kapama and was very easy.

Take one chicken and cut it into pieces. Heat olive oil in a pan with a lid and brown the chicken. If necessary do this in patches. Season the chicken with salt and pepper as you go.

Once the chicken is browned remove to a dish and cook a finely chopped onion in the oil that is left in the pan. After a few minutes add a good squirt of tomato paste and then as that starts to catch pour a third of a bottle of red wine. Bring to the boil and cook for a minute or two.

Then add the rest of the ingredients as follows; three chopped tomatoes, 3 tablespoons of brandy, a third of a cup of strong coffee, three tablespoons of honey, a cinnamon stick, three cloves and a bay leaf.

Return the chicken to the pan with its juices and cook at a simmer with the lid on for about forty-five minutes.

It was only me eating so I had a couple of the chicken pieces with some of the pasta I had bought from Matta’s. We will finish the rest for lunch tomorrow.

We went to see Northern Soul this afternoon so this evening we are listening to a 18 track CD compilation which the sleeve-notes tell me would costs a grand in 45s.

We will be eating fillets of monkfish that have been marinading in spiced yogurt and a tomato salad. The recipes for these come from Sabrina Ghayour’s Persiana which has just won cookbook of the year in the Observer Food Magazine. Lips are smacking.