Jamaica: Welcome to Goldeneye, Mr Bond. We've been expecting you

Set back from a rocky outcrop on Jamaica's north coast, near the one-time banana port of Oracabessa, is a low, white bungalow. From its long, slot-like front window there is a panoramic view of the Caribbean. Beyond a fringe of reef, 90 miles of open sea separates it from the political hot potato of Cuba; to the north-west are the cash-rich Cayman Islands. From the water, the house is just a pale splash against the greenery of the Jamaican hills – far less imposing than the vast beachfront properties nearby. Yet this is a place where you might expect to find intrigue and adventure, with dinner guests playing blackjack, scantily clad girls lounging by the pool and martinis shaken, not stirred. This is Goldeneye.

Set back from a rocky outcrop on Jamaica's north coast, near the one-time banana port of Oracabessa, is a low, white bungalow. From its long, slot-like front window there is a panoramic view of the Caribbean. Beyond a fringe of reef, 90 miles of open sea separates it from the political hot potato of Cuba; to the north-west are the cash-rich Cayman Islands. From the water, the house is just a pale splash against the greenery of the Jamaican hills – far less imposing than the vast beachfront properties nearby. Yet this is a place where you might expect to find intrigue and adventure, with dinner guests playing blackjack, scantily clad girls lounging by the pool and martinis shaken, not stirred. This is Goldeneye.

Of course, that's the fantasy. There's certainly the whiff of serious money around, but you'd have to replace intrigue with indolence, swap the gambling for a few hands of bridge by the pool and – important, this – double the number of martinis involved in order to get closer to the truth. Having said that, who needs truth? Goldeneye – the tranquil home that Ian Fleming designed and built in 1946, and in which he wrote the 14 James Bond books before his death in 1964 – is a bolt-hole for the very rich, a place for the famous to ponder the trajectory of their glittering careers. The real world simply isn't part of the currency; the setting is so perfect that it reeks of fiction. The truth, quite frankly, is best left at the imposing gates.

In the real world, Independent journalists do not usually sun themselves in the garden of a home that has played host to Michael Caine, Kate Moss and Harrison Ford. They do not lounge on the sofa where Sting wrote "Every Breath You Take". Their every whim is rarely catered for by a 24-hour steward service. And they certainly do not sleep in a cottage on the cliff edge, a view of the ocean from their bed. In the real world, the fact that I'm here at all is the result of immense business success on the part of others, who are celebrating with close – and extremely grateful – friends. For the purposes of a trip that redefines the parameters of luxury holidaymaking, however, you can give me a cat to stroke and call me Blofeld.

The truth of how much Ian Fleming projected his own life into the fiction of his most famous creation is also hard to pin down. He was born in 1908 and went to Eton, flunked Sandhurst and struggled with careers as a journalist and merchant banker, before becoming a successful Commander in the Naval Intelligence Division of the "Wavy Navy" (the civilian branch of the Royal Navy) during the Second World War. It seems he was never a Bond, but was more of a spymaster "M" figure. He was certainly deeply involved in – and fascinated by – espionage.

It was also during the war that Fleming first fell in love with Jamaica. Andrew Lycett's 1995 biography details Fleming's first reaction to the place: "When we have won this blasted war, I am going to live in Jamaica. Just live in Jamaica and lap it up, and swim in the sea and write books." His post-war job as Foreign Manager at the Sunday Times saw him travel the world: the exotic backdrops to the Bond books are relics of his travels in Europe, the Middle East and America, and of his earlier time as a journalist in Moscow.

But, true to his word, he soon settled in Jamaica – for the winter months at least. The plot of land he bought was then known as Rock Edge, but Fleming liked the symmetry of Oracabessa's English translation ("Golden Head") with Goldeneye, the codename of a wartime operation that he'd masterminded. And he also began to write, drawing the name of his hero from a twitchers' handbook on his bookshelf: The Birds of the West Indies, by James Bond.

Jamaica was soon to feature prominently in the Bond legend. Dr No and The Man with the Golden Gun were both set here, and the film version of Dr No was shot on location in Kingston and on the north coast.

Ramsey Dacosta, one of the three stewards these days employed to whisk you in your own private glass-bottomed boat to your own private beach 15 yards away, was a child when Fleming first moved to Goldeneye. He remembers "the Commander" breakfasting on orange juice, then going for a morning swim before locking himself away behind the jalousies of his room to write his daily quota of 2,000 words at his special corner desk (which is still in situ). After this concentrated burst of creativity, he would often entertain friends in the sunken garden. Regular guests included Noël Coward, Evelyn Waugh, Errol Flynn and Lucien Freud.

"When he walked round the garden, it's like he's thinking, he's planning his writing," says Dacosta. "But all the time there were guests around. Commander Fleming was always very friendly. He let his friends use the house when he wasn't there."

One such guest was Sir Anthony Eden, who stayed at Goldeneye for a fortnight in 1956 in an attempt to recover his health after the Suez Crisis. A telegram to Fleming from the island's Governor is still pinned to the wall in the main bedroom: "Everyone in Jamaica joins with me in thanking you for persuading the Prime Minister and Lady Eden to come here. We feel sure that a few weeks here will completely restore him to good health." Even prime ministers had to rough it, though. Fleming wasn't one for creature comforts and the décor was minimal.

Not that roughing it is a problem these days. Fact or fiction, Brosnan or Bond; either would feel at home in the luxury villa that is Goldeneye circa 2001. Beyond the main house itself ­ transformed into a den of Indonesian fabrics and ethnic art ­ lies 17 acres of lush greenery, tended by squadrons of gardeners. For the athletic, a floodlit tennis court beckons, or there's the elegantly sculpted pool. The television room was once Fleming's garage; he was obsessed with American cars. Today, it is stocked with DVDs of every Bond film and has a home-cinema system that blasts the very figs from the trees. And the sofa is 15ft long and 8ft wide. You could lose an Aston Martin in it.

Meanwhile, down at the cliff edge there are four smaller villas named after Bond girls (Domino, Solitaire, Vesper and Tiffany Case; Plenty O'Toole does not feature). Each is set inside its own bamboo stockade. Bond novels are stacked neatly on bedside tables, and the fittings speak of restrained, if expensive, taste. Ablutions are carried out in private outdoor bathrooms sheltered under banana trees ­ an exotic touch.

From the villas, a path leads to a gazebo, where cocktails precede traditional Jamaican surf and turf at mealtimes, and there's a view of a 500ft-long, crescent-shaped private beach. Everything is brushed and tended to within an inch of its existence. Even the sand is manicured.

It's a pampered existence, and Goldeneye is almost impossible to leave even briefly, but it's worth making the 15-minute road trip to the other literary residence on this stretch of coast: Noël Coward's "Firefly" villa.

Both Goldeneye and Firefly are owned by Island Outpost, the luxury hotel chain run by media mogul Chris Blackwell, who brought Bob Marley to international fame on his Island record label. Blackwell's mother, Blanche, was Fleming's closest confidante towards the end of his life, and Fleming gave the young Blackwell his first job ­ as location manager for Dr No. While Goldeneye is given over to luxury living, Firefly has been restored to its original state and is now a museum.

Coward and Fleming were close friends as well as neighbours. Indeed, Coward was often a vital support in Fleming's chaotic personal life.

A broad brushstroke would paint Fleming as a self-absorbed romantic who could rarely see beyond his obsessions. He used Bond to bring them to life. Fleming. like Bond, was a womaniser.

His affair with, and eventual marriage to, Anne Rothermere was always turbulent. He was also prone to fits of introspection and self-doubt, even when the success of Bond had finally secured him a place in the literary canon.

Towards the end of his life, he looked to Goldeneye as one of the few places he could get any peace: "Would these books have been born if I had not been living in the gorgeous vacuum of a Jamaican holiday? I doubt it."

Since then, celebrity has transformed Goldeneye. Fifty years ago, Fleming was just beginning to ponder life as a thriller writer. His legacy was a burgeoning film franchise that would see his creation immortalised as the world's most famous spy. Where once the merely famous ­ Truman Capote, Graham Greene and Cecil Beaton ­ roamed the gardens, now the cult of celebrity means that the starriest of A-lists flocks to the house for a spell of R&R outside the media scrum.

A sign of the changing times can be found in the plaques scattered throughout the property, which mark trees planted by the great and good. The first, dated 1956, commemorates Sir Anthony Eden's efforts. But more recent plaques speak of fame of a very different kind. Quincy Jones has been digging away. So has Cindy Crawford. Johnny Depp's guava tree looms over Gwyneth Paltrow's lychee. Strangest of all, Pierce Brosnan ­ the fifth Bond, and star of the movie Goldeneye ­ has planted his very own mango. James Bond has returned to his roots.

Traveller's guide

Getting there: Ben Ross flew from Heathrow to Montego Bay with Air Jamaica. Fares are lower if you fly via Miami, using some combination of British Airways, Virgin Atlantic and American Airlines; reckon on close to £500 return. Mind you, if you are staying at Goldeneye, the last thing you should be worrying about is price.

Accommodation: Goldeneye (Oracabessa, St Mary, Jamaica) is a two-hour drive from the airport. It can be booked only as a complete unit, including all five villas. The minimum stay is a week. The price per night during the January-to-May high season is $7,500 (£5,320) for one to eight people, $9,000 (£6,375) for nine to 12 people, and $10,000 (£7,100) for 13 to 18 people. During the June-to-December low season, the prices are $5,000 (£3,550), $6,000 (£4,250) and $7,500 (£5,320) respectively. Prices exclude transfers, meals and drinks. For reservations, call 020-7440 4360 or visit www.island outpost.com/Goldeneye/

Compare Travel Insurance - 5 day Euro cover from £4.33 and Annual worldwide policies from just £43.08