What is it about islands which so fascinates, and soothes after time spent in cities?
The love of islands is a widespread affliction – why else are we still reading Robinson Crusoe after 300 years? Why Treasure Island? Why after 75 years and over 2,000 episodes are we still listening to Desert Island Discs? From the blessed isles of Tír na nÓg and Thomas More’s Utopia to the island-dramas of CS Lewis and Enid Blyton, it seems we can’t get enough of them.
As a boy in my local library in Fife, I’d sit on scratchy carpet tiles and open an immense atlas
