Sea, sunset and supper with friends – the perfect combination. Summer sundowners is one of my favourite summer traditions.

One of my neighbours leaves the island this weekend, so yesterday evening we had a sundowner to give them the perfect send-off. Anyone can call a sundowner – an email is sent out a few days before from whoever in the neighbourhood fancies one.  Then anyone who can make it heads down to our local beach at 6pm-ish with their supper, booze, picnic blanket and swimmers. Sundowners bring the neighbourhood together. In the UK I didn’t even know the neighbours in the street next to our cul-de-sac. Here, we have a close community and I have made some wonderful friends.

Last night there was a particularly good turn-out. By the time we got to the beach, a makeshift bar had been set up on a rock, people were drinking and swimming, children were playing. Within minutes of arriving I’m offered a glass of blackberry and elderflower Pimms. It’s delicious and before I know it I’ve had two.

There is something exquisitely magical about swimming in the sea as the sun is setting. The sky turns amber and everything is touched with orange light. The sea is warm and refreshing, washing off the day’s stickiness. And as we play in the waves, the stars start to come out above us. I spot a cave in the headland that I hadn’t seen before and go over to explore.

We head back to the beach and tuck into our supper. A bottle of wine is opened, a can of beer. Neighbours come over to join us; we share stories of our summer. Goobie has run off with his friends. I turn round and see him climbing the rocks of the headland, waving a flag. I think what a fabulous place to spend your childhood.

The sun disappears behind the far headland and dusk turns to night. My third drink becomes my fourth as I wander between my neighbours, joining in conversations. Soon it’s too dark to be certain who I’m talking to. ‘Who are you?’ I ask and we all laugh. I look around for Goobie. Someone has given the children glow-sticks and I know Goobie’s is green. Further down the beach I can see a cluster of moving glow-sticks huddled around a turtle nest. The green glow-stick is there.

I look up and the sky is dotted with stars. It’s a clear sky; it’s going to be a cold night. Not over here. I’m standing beneath hundreds of stars in my bikini and it’s still warm. The sea is silver in the starlight, the sound of the waves a constant roar behind the laughter and hum of voices.

I could have stayed all night.

Magical.