A, C, S and N proposed a commune holiday on the Isle of Harris later in the year. Since TPR and I were already there, the others tasked us with checking out the various self-catering cottages that A had identified for the trip.

The first “cottage” was a red-roofed rotting wooden shed stuck in the middle of the moorland. I assured TPR that if this was the kind of accommodation that they wanted to book, we would flee to A and B’s bed and breakfast in Northton.

We drove along the coast to the next candidate cottage. I watched the seals bobbing about in the water, wondering if we might also see a whale or two. Instead I was rewarded with the most astonishing sight: a giant baby kangaroo with ears the size of an African elephant was paddling in the shallow water of Luskentyre Bay.