I was the front passenger on a blue five-saddle tandem steered by my nephew P from very the last seat at the back of the bike.

To ride the winding one-track roads of the Isle of Arran without protective clothing, steered by a pilot who couldn’t see where he was going, was extremely dangerous. We were forced to bail out into the hedgerow overgrowth on a couple of bends along the route.

However, it was all worth the risk when my sister J admitted that she finally understood the attraction of the Scottish islands as a holiday destination, drawing particular attention to its pretty beaches and quirky folk museums.