I’ve discovered one of the worst things about living on a remote island. And I realised it just after 7pm on Saturday evening.

Dinner was finished - a hearty autumnal meal of spicy sausage hotpot, creamy mashed potatoes and some buttery greens on the side - and the clean-up operation of an 11-month-old who enjoys covering himself in food just as much as eating it was thankfully almost over.

But as the clock neared 7.20pm, my husband said: "Don't you have somewhere to be?", and my stomach dropped. I grabbed my bike helmet, gave my tomato-covered baby a quick kiss on the head, and bolted for the door. I had a ferry to meet, and there wasn't much time.

It's not that I was getting on that ferry, or that I was meeting someone off it. I was saying goodbye.

The worst thing about living on a remote island, it turns out, is when people leave.

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Why winning a pub quiz taught me the value of island friendships

Stormbound on a Scottish island: how a short stay became a five-day adventure

I think I’ve discovered the magic of my Scottish island - and it smells

Tonight, it's the departure........

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