Isle Be Blowed! ; He Calls Himself the Island Man and has Devoted His Life to Spending the Night On Every Windswept Sea-Lashed Scottish Island with Only Puffins and Kamikaze Cows for Company. Could It Be, Asks Jane Fryer, That He's Ever so Slightly Bonkers?

Summary

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A STORMY day on a fishing boat on the North Sea just off the coast of Shetland.

The sky is steel gey, the waves are crashing and smashing and I am simultaneously willing myself not to be sick and trying to listen politely to Andy 'The Island Man' Strangeway as he chatters on, and on.

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Extract

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Isle Be Blowed! ; He Calls Himself the Island Man and has Devoted His Life to Spending the Night On Every Windswept Sea-Lashed Scottish Island with Only Puffins and Kamikaze Cows for Company. Could It Be, Asks Jane Fryer, That He's Ever so Slightly Bonkers?

'Ooh, fantastic! Look at those waves just look at them. And feel that wind biting into your cheek, ha ha,' he yells as his two-foot- long grey ponytail whips about in the biting wind. 'Can you feel it, love? Can you feel it?' Er, yes Andy ... along with the rain lashing into my eyes, the 5ft swell beneath us, the waves of nausea and a rising panic that it's going to be dark by 3.23pm. Which would be fine, of course, if we were going to be tucked up nicely in front of a roaring peat fire ...

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