Winter Is Coming

Banjo and Ro turn their attention to the heart of Ulva House: the dilapidated old kitchen. What should be a warm, bustling hub of their future hotel is currently a cold shell. Bare crumbling plaster walls, rotten cabinetry and a floor so uneven it feels like walking across waves.
Before beauty can blossom, the pair must first wage war on the bones of the building. At the centre of Banjo’s vision lies a sweeping kitchen island, sculptural yet functional, the anchor of the room and the place where island guests will gather. While Ro’s chosen marble tiles - creamy, veined and incredibly heavy - are at risk from their pet pigs' muddy trotters.

Outside, the threat of winter looms, and the handcrafted heritage windows - a crucial defence against the punishing Hebridean storms - still haven’t arrived. Each passing day increases Banjo and Ro's anxiety - will they be wind and watertight when winter hits? Without those windows, the house can't be fortified against the elements and a penalty just short of £15,000 hangs over them.

For Banjo, the pressure becomes increasingly heavy, and every design decision suddenly feels like a test. Are his plans too ambitious? Is he risking the whole project for a vision that might never be realised? A crisis of confidence takes root, creeping in alongside the damp and the delays. Ro tries to hold the foundations steady, but even he can see the strain deepening Banjo, who has poured his heart into every corner of Ulva House. As winter draws closer, and the threat of financial disaster grows sharper, Banjo and Ro must decide whether to push on, adapt or pull back before the kitchen, Banjo’s confidence and their dream of a unique, boutique island hotel crumbles under the mounting pressure.