For some, staying for a week on a rocky, low-lying island covered in scrub and gorse - no beaches, no roads, no shops, no night-clubs - in a former fisherman's cottage without a bathroom and only a bucket-flush loo, may not be quite enough to induce thoughts of holiday nirvana. However, as I lay in the sun, novel in hand and the sea lapping at my feet, I was happy.

Zut, my home for a week, is one of the 147 Kornati islands, which lie off the coast of Croatia, roughly halfway down the country's Adriatic coast. The beauty of these islands lies in their barrenness: their shores are lined with rocks, not sandy coves, and they have no natural water, only what is collected when it rains or is brought from the mainland. It is these arid conditions, though, that has kept the developers away.

The area is a magnet for yachting types who sail through, rarely stopping. But on some islands, a few old fishermen's cottages can be rented. It offers the perfect escape from email and TV, although mobile phone addicts will be heartened to know that you can just about get a signal if you stand on higher ground.

Because the flight from London arrives quite late in the evening, your first night must be spent on the mainland, in the World Heritage-listed town of Trogir. Founded in the seventh century, it has winding lanes, a harbour full of small boats and swanky yachts, bars, restaurants and pizzerias, and, in the evenings, families strolling along in their Sunday best, ice creams in hand. I joined them, handing over four kuna (30p) for a pistachio-flavoured cone and settled down to watch young couples sauntering past and a tiny girl beaming with pleasure on a donkey while her anxious mother walked behind.

The following morning, after breakfast by the harbour, I took a taxi north to the coastal town of Murter, an hour or so away, to stock up on food for the next three days, choosing cheese, tomatoes, local sausage, soup, beer, fruit and cherry juice. (After these ran out, I was reliant on a boat that brings supplies to the islands every other day.)

A speedboat might reach the nearest of the islands in 20 minutes. I, on the other hand, took a leisurely hour and a half to get out to Zut, our small vessel fighting its way through the swell, burdened by bags of shopping, Croatian grannies, excited children and a large dog.

When we pulled up at the jetty in a secluded bay, the elderly female owner of my cottage, dressed head to toe in black, was there to greet me. She gave me a brief introductory tour - turn the gas on here; these are the lights - and then I quickly unpacked.

The great thing about doing a Robinson Crusoe for a week is that you don't have to worry about what to wear. I had with me a pair of shorts, a pair of flip-flops, a few T-shirts and a jumper, with enough books and magazines to stock a county library. I was going to turn golden brown while catching up on all those novels I'd meant to read but never got round to.

There were four cottages grouped together, one of which was not a holiday home but occupied by a Croatian family who spent most of their time fishing. A short walk away, along a rocky path, around the other side of the bay, were a few more single-storey stone homes. All in all, perhaps 20 people might be here in peak season, but there were half that number during my stay.

My white-painted cottage was basic. Across a vine-covered patio, the front door led to the kitchen, which had a butane-powered fridge and stove, and a small table. There was only one tap, set low into the wall. Water had to be collected in a bowl and then taken outside to a sink (with no tap), which also doubled as the bathroom.

Up a flight of steps, the double bedroom was light and airy. Outside, there was an ingenious shower system on the patio, consisting of what looked like a large hot-water bottle hung up on a pole, painted black on one side, with a tube and a nozzle sticking out of the bottom. When this was left in the sun for a few hours it heated up very nicely to provide a reasonably hot shower.

There are no roads on Zut, so I used a kayak to get around. You can pay extra for a motor boat, which might have been a better idea in order to see more places. But I was happy enough with the former and reasoned it was a good way to get fit. Every morning, I'd set off to explore the bays and coves. Paddling around was not a problem as there was not much of a current, and it only took 20 minutes to get to neighbouring islands, or over the bay, past the mainly German and Italian yachts moored there for the night.

It became a daily ritual to glide slowly along, feet hanging either side into the translucent water, looking out for fish and searching for a perfect sunbathing rock. Once I'd spotted the ideal vantage point, I'd tie up the kayak, get my towel out and baste gently in the sun for a few hours, occasionally diving into the water to cool off.

Evening entertainment back at my cottage consisted of sitting on the jetty, watching the sun go down, cold beer in hand, reading or watching a couple of crabs dance on an underwater rock. When I tired of the cheese and watermelon that I'd brought with me, I rowed over the inlet to one of two tiny restaurants on the island. Both had only a few tables set outside under a canopy, offering fish (various freshly caught varieties would be offered, then gutted and de-scaled on the rocks below while cats gathered round expectantly awaiting the scraps) or pork with chips, octopus salad, wine and coffee, for £10. To look out over the water, boats bobbing up and down on the sea, with the sun setting, was special.

My next-door neighbours on one side were a pleasant but reserved French family from Bordeaux and, on the other, a very friendly Italian family from Tuscany. Being English, of course, the Italians reasoned I didn't know what good food was - Tommaso, the son, had been to Birmingham and had had packet soup and rice pudding, so he knew this to be a fact. I shared the delicious salami and pasta that they'd brought over from Pescia and we finished each evening with local Croatian spirit, sljivovica, which was as evil to drink as it was to pronounce.

By the end of my week, I was thoroughly relaxed and not at all ready to return to civilisation. The boat back to the mainland left on time. A kitten sat on the end of the jetty trying to get into a bucket of fish. I stood on deck and watched my little cottage disappear from view.

Way to go

Getting there: Bond Tours (01372 745300, bondtours.com) offers a week in the Kornati Islands from £539pp (two sharing) including Gatwick flights from, one night's B&B in Trogir, six nights' self-catering in the Kornati Islands and transfers. A rowing boat can be hired for £80 per week, or a motor boat (recommended) for £110.

Further information: Croatian Tourist Board (020-8563 7979, croatia.hr). The official Kornati National Park site is tel.hr/np-kornati.
Country code: 00 385.
Time difference: +1hr.
Flight time London-Split: 2hrs, 30 minutes.
£1 = 11.12 kuna.