Lindsay Castle

There is something peculairly invigorating (and perhaps just peculiar) about trudging through sand and over glistening rocks, in salty sea air, crashing surf on one side, lush hillside vegetation on the other, to your own beach-marooned, stone-turreted castle. King Arthur meets Robinson Crusoe. Since our last edition Laura has taken up the reins, a delightful host, well-travelled, knowledgeable. Joining other guests, I settled on the sofa as she lit candles. We sipped tingling tonic, watched the fire dancing in its hearth and inhaled some very encouraging smells emanating from the kitchen. Dinner is eaten together around a medieval-looking table made of railway sleepers - fresh mussels fetched from below that very night. Later, I ascended the wooden ladder to my turret and lounged in bed, surf washing comfortingly on the shore below, stars twinkling through misty windows. If you come in winter, you'll watch the waves of phosphorescence wash in and, in the darkness, ghostly footprints glow in the sand. Lindsay Castle, with its airy, stone interior, terracotta tiles and blue and white fabrics, is somehow very in tune with the surrounding, pounding sea. Whales (in season) and dolphins cavort in the bay and there are otters, bushbuck and the rare oyster-catcher too. You can hike, fish and swim in the estuary or sea. Romantics only need apply.