○Your little island is dangerous TV. Ostensibly the most benign of concepts, this four-part, hour-long documentary series, narrated by Meera Char, depicts life on the hundreds of ancient islands that dot the coastline of Britain. Compared to what's on offer here, it's not Lundy's, Lindis Farns, or Mercy's equivalent to Manhattan, Las Vegas, or Dubai, where birds and wildflowers outnumber humans thousands of times, and where the only means of transportation is is a boat or a bicycle, a piece of land where life is everything. Please make it. It's heaven for introverts.
We're talking about places like Rathlin, a 14.5 square kilometer (5.6 square mile) puffin habitat off the coast of Northern Ireland. It is home to 150 people, including Tom the ferryman and various RSPB staff and volunteers who are preparing to remove the rats on their behalf. and ferrets – an invasive species whose appetite for eggs means there are fewer puffins on the island than there used to be. Alternatively, most of Tresco Island's 1.15 square Cornish Mile is occupied by an abbey garden established in the 19th century by its then owners (whose family now leases the island from the Duchy of Cornwall). It is currently supervised by head gardener Andy and his management. wife, Kate;
Or the community-owned Giga Island off the west coast of Kintyre, Scotland. Tony and his family came to live here 12 years ago after convincing islanders that oyster farming there could add to their way of life. His son Archie was born there. He loves helping his father and hopes to follow in his father's footsteps in saltwater. Perhaps we are witnessing the birth of a new ancient tradition.
If you want to get serious, there's Cockle Island. The island's 1,500 square meters is reduced to 50 square meters at high tide, and there are no permanent residents. People at the National Trust are monitoring colonies of arctic, common and sandwich terns and the rise in sea levels that could one day completely submerge the island.
But it's Virgie who has captured my heart. A cramped dwelling off the coast of the Llyn Peninsula is home to gray seals, thousands of seabirds, 1,500 years of Christian history, and three humans. However, in the spring, when agricultural demand is at its highest, that number increases to nine. It is said that 20,000 saints are buried there, but they probably did not disturb the peace much during their lifetimes. Its fame reached its peak in the Middle Ages, when it was a revered destination for pilgrims. The island's current vicar, a Yorkshireman named Adrian, looks out over the ruins of the monastery and thinks about a time when as many as a million acts of worship may have taken place over 400 years. “Certainly there was an outpouring of longing, longing, and worship for a divine reality that left something of itself in the landscape,” he says. When there's a particularly beautiful sunset, we delay the comp line so everyone can stand outside and watch the sunset.
Behind its beautiful scenery and mundane script, our small islands reveal what we really need to live a good life: the things that satisfy us, give us meaning, and give us purpose. This is a meditation about. It shows us that it is possible too. It's amazing how many people have chosen to break away from the mundanity of modern life and choose something completely different. Tony was on his final job search as an apprentice primary school teacher in Edinburgh when he saw an advertisement for an oyster farmer that shocked him and his wife. “I didn't get along very well with my bosses,” he says. “Now my only boss is the tide.'' Rathlin ferryman Tom dropped a tool on a construction site one day in 2006, suddenly felt unwell and never returned to the site. He found his way to his beloved island as a day-tripper in the 1980s and hasn't left since. “What I have gained by coming here is peace of mind.'' Adrian lives in the former chapel of Sister Helen Mary, an accomplished pianist and gifted linguist. Helen Mary first became an enclosed nun and then, as that was not enough, she was granted permission to live as a hermit on Virsey Island in 1969. I think it was a glorious 15 years.
Of course, for some people, living on an island can be hell on earth. But we feel like there are too many battles perpetuating the wide world, like puffins defending their precious sane eggs from predatory modern forces that attack us like determined ferrets. For those of you to see it, and I promise you, there is still a small chance.
Our little islands are on Channel 4.
