I had already installed a collection of pomanders in a heart shape on the floor of the Lookout - but there were some gaps to be filled. I appealed to the people of Whitstable to help mend a broken heart.
I had no idea how many would be found and waited on the day for the hunters to come back. One by one the pomanders and their finders returned, often with great excitement and eagerness to tell the story of how they'd been discovered.
It was undoubtedly a lot of fun for the children who took part, careering around the streets and beaches in search of something which ultimately offered a prize for its safe return.
One child was so taken with the pomander itself that he asked to forego the goodie bag if he could keep it. Another had the greatest respect for the broken heart concept and wanted to stay until it was what he described as 'properly mended.'
The adults, too, had their stories to tell. One woman in particular stands out in my mind. She was clearly moved by what The Heart of Whitstable meant to her; she had moved to Whitstable, she told me, to help mend her own broken heart.
It was the first anniversary of one couple's relationship and they had come to Whitstable to celebrate. One of them described standing outside a restaurant idly looking at a box of used oyster shells and seeing 'something quite beautiful' amongst them. They had followed the instructions on the attached label and were evidently delighted to have participated in such a fun project.
They were a couple who were clearly in love, and it seemed a fitting end to the day, both for them and for me.
By nightfall, all but three of the pomanders had been returned.
As a parting gift, I took the Heart of Whitstable to the beach and left it in the shingle. Maybe it was found - or maybe the tide washed it away.