8:30AM. Sky is still black. For the third time, the piercing sound of my alarm clock rings out trying to awake me from lethargy. I dread the moment to come. Leaving this warm cocoon made of three layers is the daily torture required to live in this centenary lighthouse, a thermal shock of about forty degrees centigrade propelling me in icy clothes to a well deserved breakfast, cuddled by the smooth warmth of the wood