And with water on three sides of you, the light is always amazing.
A mountain range runs down the narrow peninsula, disappearing into the waves at Dún Chaoin and rising again in seven offshore islands, called the Blaskets. The Atlantic waves are white where they curl against the cliffs and edged with pale golden foam where they thunder onto the beaches. Farther out to sea, their colours constantly change under the wind-blown clouds, shifting from turquoise to emerald, pewter and pale jade. At sunset they're streaked with scarlet. At dawn they're tinged with faintest mother-of-pearl.
I miss the Atlantic ocean here in London. But I love the sinuous river Thames, which has its own magic and legends. Like the ocean, the Thames yields food; for countless generations, Londoners' favourite dish has been fished, cooked and served up here, straight from the river.