For the most part, the TV landscape is not a cheerful place – and there is little in the way of distraction, aside from an hour of Ninja Warrior UK on Saturday nights. The glut of documentaries about stretched-to-breaking emergency services is a testimony to the extraordinary people who work in those fields, but they are not easy to leave behind without a sinking sensation in the gut. I can’t bring myself to watch any more of the second season of The Handmaid’s Tale, after an opening episode so violent and bleak that it made that scene in 1984 where a hungry rat stares expectantly at John Hurt’s face look like a CBBC bedtime story.
Perhaps that is what drew me to BBC Two’s Back to the Land With Kate Humble in the first place. The second series ended last night (although it is on iPlayer for another month) and it has been an escapist dream, full of stories about people who have chucked in the daily grind to pursue a different way of life.
There is a couple who made money when their house in London shot up in value; they cashed in, bought a pig farm in the country and are now selling awardwinning charcuterie in farm shops around the country. Others have returned home to the farmland on which they grew up, in an attempt to turn an ailing cider business into one that fits in with the economic climate. Then there are the true devotees of their craft, driven by a deep love of what they do, be it producing the finest wool in the country or British caviar, produced as humanely as can be done, taking the eggs from the sturgeon without killing the fish, as is common practice elsewhere.
While it could have settled into being a safe space for cosy middle-class fantasies of posh wellies and range cookers – a sort of Countryfile with handmade crafts and artisan chicken – it offers much more than that. As someone with a keen interest in eating food, I find most stories about the provenance of it fascinating. The show provides an insight into what it costs to produce meat and dairy, say, with as little cruelty as possible. (Spoiler: it is not cheap.)
Much of the reality-check side of the show is down to Humble’s warm but unflinching interview style. Over the course of a year or so, throughout the seasons, she visits these small business again and again and puts hard questions to them about finances, cost, sustainability. What may first look idyllic to soft, urbanised viewers such as me is shown to be relentlessly tough graft, with profits and holidays often elusive for years.
For all the joy of watching people living off their passions – or at least attempting to – it is clear that more than dedication is required. Some of these people work 20-hour days, seven days a week. There have been moments when projects have come close to collapse due to the unpredictability of nature and it is heartbreaking.
More than all of this, though, Back to the Land is about the idiosyncrasies of human beings. There is a man from Scarborough who cashed in his pension to buy a fishing boat, which he uses to catch Yorkshire lobster, which I did not know existed (he says most of it is sold to foreign markets). There is the woman who decided to take over the village smithy, becoming its first female blacksmith, despite having to teach herself how to do it on the job. There are the business partners who run a vegan, gluten-free bakery using largely foraged ingredients and the Englishman devoting his life to making Icelandic skyr on his parents’ farm.
Even without the business chat, without the blunt reminders that dreams are not always what they are cracked up to be or the warmth of the stories that do work out, these are fascinating tales of unique people.
