I am sitting on a sofa with my feet up, next to a log-burning fire, which is crackling away. The view out of the floor-to-ceiling window in front of me is on to a mess of deciduous forest stripped of its colour by winter. Beyond the trees, the main character of the piece, Loch Fyne, shines.
The month is late November, and Scotland’s longest sea loch wears a coating of ice; thin enough to sink a skater but thick enough to colour the reflection of the vermilion sky and the rolling hills beyond. My wife and I are staying here, at Kabn, for a long weekend. It is on the west coast of Scotland, just an hour from Glasgow, yet a world away.
