And wineries, but that spoils the alliteration. It all sums up the east coast of Tasmania, so what’s not to like? We admit we do not carry out exhaustive tastings at all the wineries, but we find few wines we really like. Most vineyards are also wineries, some with a bewildering number of varietals growing in tiny amounts. Almost all produce Chardonnay and Pinot Noir and so, invariably, they offer a Sparkling wine or two. Which tells you something; when you can’t ripen or have to pick early, you can always make bubbles. And we taste a lot of very drinkable bubbles, so actually, who’s complaining? We find little to rave about however, with a couple of notable exceptions: Gala and Sinapius, both with excellent cellar door staff and good wines.

And then there are the gin and whisky distilleries. And breweries. And breweries also distilling. It’s a wonder the streets of Tasmania don’t resemble the 18th Century Hogarth drawings, showing the drunken debauchery the demon drink visits on society. Figures vary, but Tasmania has more whisky distilleries than any other state, about 70 gin distillers and more than 20 breweries.

You could never accuse Tasmanians of being wowsers. We see more than one bumper sticker proudly proclaiming “I’m not drunk, I’m Australian”. And get this. Tasmania also has a huge poppy growing industry, growing half of the global supply of legal raw material for pharmaceutical processing. Drink and drugs – where’s the rock and roll?

The bays and beaches along the east coast are lovely. We look forward to this area as Tourism Tasmania heavily promotes Wineglass Bay, in the Freycinet National Park, and the Bay of Fires in particular. The sand is astoundingly white and the water as clear as gin – without tonic or lemon. Not always the case, as Wineglass Bay once ran as red as claret with the blood of whales hunted and then processed in the bay. Not so romantic a name then, as one might think.

It is the orange lichen-covered granite boulders that gives the Bay of Fires its name. Binalong Bay at the southern end of the Bay is paradise. It has the white sand and the water is the cleanest and clearest we have ever seen. the water temperature isn’t exactly tropical, but it is still swimmable – what we call bracing on first approach, moving to lovely once you are in.

Scott is delighted to find oysters for sale at $14 a dozen, unopenend. A trip back to the charity shop – the first time was to replace broken wine glasses – for a suitable knife, and he is one happy fellow. He immediately corrupts the neighbours’ 8 year old, who takes to oysters like a professional; the four and six year olds aren’t so sure.

I know the world is divided into two types of people, those who eat raw oysters and those who would rather poke their eyes out with an oyster knife. I’m in the latter group. Over our seven weeks here I lose count of the many dozens of raw oysters Scott consumes. I would eat them deep fried – to be fair I’d eat most things deep fried – but restaurants only offer natural or oven baked. Really, oven baked.

Port Arthur is famous for being both an early convict settlement and, more latterly, the site of a mass shooting in 1996. The site of the massacre, the cafe, is now a memorial garden. The historic settlement covers many hectares, but the main buildings are easy to walk around, and have plenty of information boards. The visitor centre houses interactive displays, short films, personal stories of convicts, and often details of what ultimately happened to them. Not always a happy ending.

The settlement is only accessible by boat or across a slim isthmus, so potential escapees either swam, or faced kilometres of heavy bush before being met by dogs, vicious through underfeeding. Guards would let them loose to chase those seeking freedom.

We are now leaving, but not escaping, Tasmania. There are places we would be happy to return to, and some lovely people we would like to see again. As I write this we are sitting in the queue of cars waiting to board the Spirit of Tasmania back to the mainland. So far it’s one and a half hours late.