Annabel Astor's bothy on Jura is a comfortable oasis in the untamed landscape

A primitive bothy on Jura, one of the Western Isles, has been converted into a comfortable summer bolthole.

MAY WE SUGGEST: The intricate art of shellwork is having a renaissance


Annabel and William built an indoor bathroom and installed an oil-fired boiler that finally allowed them to have hot water and hot pipes for drying damp clothes. For the first 10 years, candles and hurricane lamps were the only forms of lighting. They then piped the house for gas lighting, which Annabel says was 'wonderfully atmospheric, the gas hissing gently in the background. But in the end it defeated us – spare parts became impossible to obtain - so we switched over to electricity a year ago.' They converted all the gas-lamp fittings to electricity and reinstalled them. The house has evolved over the years to what it is today - a charming, cosy retreat, where the fires always roar at night, sofas are deep and comfortable, delicious food abounds and the drinks room is always stocked, and where books, pictures, rugs and fabrics create a happy, civilized oasis in the untamed landscape.

'This is very much a DIY place', says Annabel. Because it is a 'fair- weather' retreat, only so much can be achieved in any one summer, and guests are roped in to help -- Lucinda has painted rooms while Sue discovered a talent as a shellwork designer. Initial experiments fixing locally found shells on a door were frustrating because there was not the variety of shells available to create interesting patterns. Sue discovered a dealer in Cornwall who shipped shells up by the sackload. 'Each of my designs is symmetrical,' says Sue, 'but the pattern often developed as I went along and, inevitably, became more ambitious.'

Given the nature of Jura's climate, The Glen does not just present itself out of the mist each year. 'It takes a good three weeks to get it up and running after a bleak winter,' says Annabel. “Before we leave, we hang from the ceilings anything vulnerable to damp or pest attack, but the mice take over. Sand is blown through the cracks and damp runs down all the walls.' There are roof repairs to be done and the doors and windows warp and break; oil has to be ordered, brought out in jerry cans and, since there is no dock, hauled up the beach, as do sacks of coal. Food shopping involves a weekly expedition to Islay.

'The effort is worth every minute of Jura time,' says Annabel. When the sun shines, as it did when I visited, and a gentle breeze keeps the midges at bay, you have to agree there is simply nowhere else to be.

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