SOME twenty years ago we nearly moved to an offshore island.
We were living in a rented wooden cabin. It was glorious but just about big enough for two and we were then three with one more on the way and another only imagined.
So, for the first time we had just about enough to buy a house and heard about this place.
You had to take a small boat ride to get there and the house was at the end of this long but small island.
The house was like a fairytale. There were potatoes growing in a derelict jeep and the old fella living there had a collection of vintage jazz records stored beneath a thin window looking out on the ocean.
He bathed in a tidal pool.
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