I'm trying to come up with a clever reason as to why I'm writing probably my ninety-ninth piece on oysters, but to be honest it beats me why I need a reason.

A-ha! I know: I haven't mentioned J Sheekey's new Oyster Bar yet. It's lovely - all elegant lines, shiny tableware and lemons in muslin - and only £15 for six Strangford Loughs and a glass of bubbly.

Then we also have Sir Terence's gastrodome-cum-hotel The Boundary, the restaurant bit of which has just opened and has 'an emphasis on crustacea' - oyster-lust if ever I heard it.

And, at the beginning of February, The Commander Porterhouse & Oyster Bar, a new foodie multiplex that houses a bistro, deli and Ginger Pig butcher (the baker and candlestick-maker were not confirmed at the time of going to press) will be opening in Notting Hill.

Oh, and the moreish moluscs are said to contain an essential mineral that immediately makes you forget your financial woes.

So there we go, at least four good reasons to write about oysters again.