We’ve moved, on An Island Parish (BBC2), from about 51 degrees south to roughly 60 degrees north – from the Falkland Islands to Shetland. Same sort of deal: wind, sheep, fishing. Less recent conflict, though, and puffins, not penguins.
If, having watched the crime drama Shetland, you think that Britain’s northernmost islands are a bleak place full of dead bodies and sad policemen and you wouldn’t dare go near them for fear of getting at least depressed and, at most, murdered, then this might put you at ease. Here, the ferry is bringing not baddies and bad drugs but the Rev David Cooper, with a sermon for the good people of Unst, the most northerly of the inhabited Northern Isles. The people of Unst should not be underestimated, says David. Of the 700 or so people on the island, around 20 of them come to church.
Busier is the nearby shop, which sells most things, including peat cutters, and there’s a cash machine. Possibly even more interesting than that is the imminent Unstfest, which this year will include a stone-skimming competition.
We visit Frank, the local horse whisperer. In Shetland, horse whisperers have to do it kneeling down, for obvious reasons. Shetland ponies were originally bred to fit down coal mines; now they’re mainly used for children, or as bonzai companions for bigger horses. Frank is currently taming a foal called Sula, who’s tiny. In the old days, that would have meant breaking Sula, physically and mentally, but now Frank takes a much softer approach. A lot of whispering, basically.
Breaking in children has moved on, too, from the day Frank was one. He always loved horses and wanted to be a jockey, but his father came home one day and said he was going to be a carpenter at the shipyards, and that was that. “In those days, what your dad said you did,” says Frank.
No sign of any real puffins, but some children have dressed up as them, for Unstfest, and they’re doing the Birdy Song, presumably because they want to, not because their dads told them to. There’s also a mobile bus stop, and a couple of retired teachers from Nottingham are there with their spaniels, which they’ve dressed up in shower caps and are towing in an old bubble car behind their modern Fiat. I have no idea why.
At the stone-skimming competition, David invokes his namesake who slung a stone and slew a giant, but manages only a miserable two bounces himself. No help whatsoever from the Lord. Then it’s all back to the retirement home, where there’s a bouncy castle, but not for the residents, I don’t think … Oh, go on David, see if you can beat your miserable water-bounce tally. God, I hope that creepy guy from the retirement home in Shetland the TV series isn’t there, the one who terrorised all the other residents. Although, to be honest, a murder or two, or drugs at least, might liven this up a bit.
Brilliant, this is what we need, more programmes about food on the television. So, what is this one then: The Food Chain (Channel 4)? I see, not the usual sense of the phrase, with great white sharks at the top, but the journey some food takes from source to plate. A kind of food family tree.
Bramley apples start on an actual tree obviously, in Kent here, which is very good for growing apples (much better than, say, Shetland, where they would blow off and kill small horses). An affable apple farmer named Peter picks his bramleys: the ugly ones are sent to Colchester to be juiced; the good ones go to supermarkets up and down the country, possibly even to that shop on Unst, the one with the cash machine, remember? Some end up in posh chocolates, others in fruit pies, a couple go to a Nottinghamshire B&B where a nice lady serves them baked. Kind of where you’d expect, although it’s nice for Peter to know where his fruit ends up.
What about Steve’s Maldon sea salt? It goes to make Kettle Chips in Norwich, to season steaks in Manchester, Middlesbrough football club, to the House of Lords, to manufacturers, wholesalers, and retailers – again, pretty much as you’d imagine. The two – the apples and the salt – converge in a posh pud at the Ritz. Justin Moorhouse’s cheerful comedy voiceover and a plinky-plonky soundtrack make it a teeny bit more irritating, but not more surprising. But hey, it’s about food. People like food; put it on.
