anthony galvin

As the hottest summer that anyone can remember comes to a close, we head north. The 'big ferry' to Islay glides across glassy seas before we change to the 'little ferry' and head over to Jura.

The weather holds. The seas around Jura sparkle. We walk to Barnhill to see where Orwell wrote 1984. It's hard to imagine such a dystopian view of the world as the sun beats down. The next day, we take a boat ride up to the Corryvreckan. The journey is uncharacteristically smooth. Even the white-tailed eagles snooze by the shore.