We caught the ‘ferry service’ to the remote island off the Shetland mainland. Open to the elements, the tiny wooden boat only carried around ten passengers. TPR rushed off to secure our accommodation once we reached the shore. Meanwhile I sat down at the side of the track to take off my walking boots and examine my latest blisters.

TPR soon returned to lead me to gift shop bed and breakfast. The internal door into the house was well hidden behind a display of sea shells. When we pushed it open, we found ourselves in a large sitting room with our hosts, their children, and dozens of puppies. I noticed dog hairs all over the carpet and furniture. What a nightmare this was going to be for me with all my allergies.

Then the family announced that it was time for their Wednesday religious service. This took place in the house because there were no longer any churches in operation on the island. TPR and I shared a panicked glance, each willing the other to devise a reasonable excuse to leave the house immediately.