Since Skye is nicknamed the Misty Isle, my preconceptions - having never been to Scotland, let alone a Scottish isle – of arriving to a vague mixture of rain, fog, deep-fried things, brutal landscapes and very friendly people wasn’t totally unfounded.
It wasn’t until I was sat on a boat – the Seaflower – in the harbour on the Island of Rona (population: two), sipping on a large glass of chilled white wine, stuffing my face with langoustine that had been caught that morning, with the sun beating down on my 50SPFed face, that I realised I might have been slightly misguided. Surely I was in the south of France? The Caribbean, perhaps?
