After a month away and the arrival of our newborn son, we return to the Isle of Rum under a canopy of stars — navigating nappies, ferry timetables, and the quiet joy of island life, says Elle Duffy.

It’s 4am, and we’re driving under a sea of stars.

We’re on the A9, making headway on our six hour journey back to the Isle of Rum after a month away. It’s the longest we’ve ever spent away from home, and for good reason. Sitting next to me is Cailean, our 10-day-old son who has just drifted off after a very restless night.

This morning was our first taste of mad-dash parenthood. Where are the nappies? No, not those ones - the ones with the rabbits. Can you spare me three extra minutes to sterilise these bottles? If you sit on this bag, I’m 99% sure it will close.

We’re leaving this little Highland village with two extra suitcases - and, of course, an extra housemate. The last day has been spent picking up scattered tiny socks and deciding if we really need that extra muslin cloth for the drive (the answer is always yes).

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