Welcome to Shetland and a windy surprise
May 26 2006 By Shahid Naqvi - Our Shetland Correspondent, Birmingham Post
I've learned two things recently. One: Shetland is not the most depressing place in the British Isles. Two: fame is a powerful drug.
It happened like this. Last month I wrote an article following an interview with an academic from Warwick University that painted a pretty bleak picture of Shetland.
Shahid Naqvi in the Shetland - scroll to the bottom of the page to see more pictures
The piece, published on April 14, started: "If you think Tipton on a wet and windy winter's day is depressing, think again."
It went on to describe some of the conditions faced by islanders such as isolation, decline in industry, poor weather, traditional communities not prone to talking about their problems, lack of sunlight.
A Post reader in Shropshire saw the article and sent it to her brother-in-law Mark Wylie who lives on Shetland.
From there it winged its way to Jonathan Lee, editor of The Shetland Times - and all hell broke loose.
Of course, the headline "The Most Depressing Place in British Isles" didn't help. Nor did the fact that I wrongly placed the island in the Arctic Circle and spelt its most sacred annual festival Up Helly Aa wrong.
The Shetland Times contacted me and published a double-page defensive spread with the headline "Anger at low blow from Midlands". We followed up with a Shetland-hits-back piece and published a selection of letters from irate readers.
POST COMMENT Last month The Birmingham Post published an article that painted a rather bleak picture of Shetland. Carrying the headline "The most depressing place in British Isles", it suggested the Scottish outpost was more grim than "Tipton on a cold, wet and windy winter's day". It was bound to provoke reaction. Surprisingly, it was not from the inhabitants of Tipton but those in the Shetland Islands. It is, of course, pleasing to know The Post is read in such a far-off corner of the British Isles. But what is even more striking about the response is the strength of feeling it has invoked. Unlike the inhabitants of Tipton, the Shetlanders have risen in passionate defence of their territory. Our article prompted a double page spread in The Shetland Times. But the paper's journalists also point out the islands' faults such as their nine months of winter, which may not be to everyone's liking. The Shetlands' strong sense of identity and vigorous defence of their locality suggests the islands are far from the most depressing place in our country. Further research has indeed opened our eyes to the charms of one of the "most unique natural environments in the world". Just as, no doubt, further research by our friends on the The Shetland Times may have revealed that Tipton and Dudley are not in Birmingham. Both are examples of misunderstandings that can exist between different parts of the country. With fears of the far-right gaining influence in this week's local elections, it is perhaps also a timely reminder of how misinformation can breed hatred within different sections of the community. And so in the spirit of friendship, we offer our apologies for any offence we may have caused to the people of Shetland. |
But it was probably the apologetic leader (see sidebar), with its "Sorry, Shetland" headline that really send me down the Boris Johnson road to penance. Tourist body VisitShetland, sensing a publicity coup, invited me to the island to see what it was really like - and so the media circus began.
The Scottish edition of The Sunday Times carried a lead story on the rumpus and I was interviewed by Scottish radio and TV.
And so, six weeks on, I found myself staring out the window of a small two-prop plane at a BBC journalist filming our arrival at Sumburgh Airport.
No sooner had I disembarked than I was interviewed by the BBC's senior broadcast journalist for Orkney and Shetland, John Johnston.
And then, along with Post photographer Jeremy Pardoe, we were whisked to "Shetland's most luxurious hotel" - the four star Kveldso in Shetland's capital of Lerwick.
After wolfing down dinner we were met by the editor of The Shetland Times, Jonathan Lee, and head of VisitShetland Andy Steven for a drink.
Andy hinted about a "wet and wild" surprise in store for me on Sunday which left me worried.
We then moved on to a bar to meet a BBC radio team up from Glasgow for a spotlight on Shetland who wanted an interview for "Scotland's main lunchtime news programme", Scotland Live.
By the time we got back to the hotel, I was bushed - and the busiest day on the media bandwagon was yet to come!
The next morning I was woken by the unfamiliar sound of a sea gull squawking outside my room reminding me of where I was.
Tucking into a full Shetland breakfast (same as English but with black pudding and soda bread), my mobile phone went and it was an agency journalist wanting to fix up an interview for Grampian TV.
Aware that I had not yet experienced anything of Shetland and would soon be forced to talk about the place, I headed out for a quick walk around Lerwick.
On a bright sunny day, the harbour town is attractive enough. As a city dweller, the first thing you notice is the sound of birds instead of traffic. Practically everywhere you are, the town offers views out to sea and the ever-changing harbour.
But I didn't have long to enjoy it. Jonathan picked us up just after 10am and drove us to The Shetland Times' office on an industrial estate. Photo shoot of me handing over a symbolic bottle of HP sauce and box of Cadbury's Roses to Jonathan over, it was back down to the harbour to rendezvous with the next media appearance.
As we walked along the dock, I noticed a British naval vessel moored up. Was it for my protection, I wondered?
Hans, the agency journalist, did his interview and then dragged me up to the High Street to confront some of the locals.
"Hi - I'm the journalist from Birmingham," I said sheepishly to one woman who turned out to be Russian.
"Oh yes, I've heard all about you," she said.
"So you're the one!" exclaimed another.
To be fair, they both extended a warm welcome.
When Hans was satisfied he had everything he needed, he took me up the road to the BBC studio for a live interview with Scotland Live presenter Gary Robertson.
Sitting in the recording studio waiting to go on air, I pondered how I managed to end up on the other side of the journalistic fence in such a major way.
But there was no time to think too deeply. A second later I was on. I have no recollection of what I said to the population of Scotland. All I remember is the disconcerting experience of hearing my words repeated back to me a few seconds later through the headphones I was wearing.
BBC Scotland UK Press Gazette The Sunday Times |
Along with the other guests, I was invited to take part in a food-tasting item to see if we could tell the difference in a new organic cod being farmed in Shetland. I think I got it right.
The media feeding frenzy eased off after that and for a brief moment we were left alone.
It could have been an opportunity for some investigative journalism on my behalf. After all, among the dozens of letters of abuse The Post received was one lone voice of support urging me to visit the Mossbank area.
"There you will see filth and squalor drunks and drug addicts..." said the correspondence.
But it was not to be. VisitShetland had arranged a boat trip for the afternoon. Our captain, Jonathan Wills - a charismatic old sea-dog born in Kenilworth, told us he once shared a flat with Gordon Brown.
He proved a knowledgable guide to the wildlife and geology of Shetland. The trip out to the cliffs of Noss was like stepping into a David Attenborough documentary. Birds I had never seen before were there in their thousands. Arctic terns, guillemots, gannets and puffins, great Skuas, kittiwakes...
Good Shetlands * Fresh sea air * Community spirit * Safe and secure * Knowing lots of folk * Spending our oil millions * Sports centres and all that * Drink culture (for the party people) * Soothmoothers bringing new ideas * Reasonable selection of take-away restaurants * Returning after a trip away Bad Shetlands * The nine-month winters * Eyes are on you * Expensive to travel * Malicious gossip * Wasting our oil millions * Too many sports centres * Drink culture (for the sober) * Soothmoothers taking over * Lack of high street shopping and no cinema |
Another interview followed, in which John Johnston tried his best to get me to "eat humble pie" and say "sorry Shetland".
Day three on the island was our taste of "real Shetland".
Andy Steven took us north through a rugged landscape of windswept treeless moorland and increasingly Scandinavian-looking houses.
To a land-locked Midlander, it was difficult not to be impressed by the grand vistas and open views on the island.
At a remote place called Eshaness we got out to walk along cliffs with sheer drops into a wild, frothy sea.
John Johnston had beaten us there and made yet another attempt to get me to apologise. By now I was fielding him like the true professional.
As a rain shower swept in from the west, we decamped to the Braewick Cafe, a newly-opened symbol of Shetland's growing confidence in tourism.
Its charming owner Christina Nicolson, a born and bred Shetlander, told me she would never live anywhere else.
"I have been to London and I have to say I would never go back," she said.
"I was terrified. The noise, the crowds. Nobody looks at you, nobody smiles at you. I felt very unsafe."
Back on the road we headed to Fethaland, the northernmost tip of the main land.
There we met David Murray, who organises walking tours in the area and has a house from which last summer he was able to watch a pod of Killer Whales killing seals.
He introduced us to Alan Macdonald, a Birmingham immigrant who moved to Shetland with his family 12 years ago and is now a crofter.
He highlights the island's good education and health service and the fact that you don't need to lock your car as attractions. But primarily, it's the people that make it, he reckons.
"This is a unique place where people are living a traditional rural life here.
"I know far more people here than when I was living in a city and they are genuine friends. You walk into people's houses without knocking the door."
Back in Lerwick that night I got a sense of how close knit the community is. Eating dinner at the Queen's Hotel, I was recognised by a group of 15 diners.
I overheard one of the them say: "Maybe I'll be rude about somewhere and get a freebie." Fair comment I suppose.
But it was in a bar called Da Noost later that I discovered how widespread my infamy was. As soon as we walked in I was recognised. For a minute I thought we were in for a public lynching. Instead, I was feted. Women flirted with me. Old men shook my hand and asked me what I thought about Shetland.
At least one girl got her friend to take a picture of herself standing next to me. I was even invited to an island by one local to meet her 92-year-old grannie for lunch. On Shetland, I'm bigger than Jade Goody!
For one evening I got a taste of the celebrity lifestyle. And it felt great!
Sunday, the last day of our trip, and I finally got the wild and wet experience I'd been promised.
VisitShetland arranged for me to go out with the lifeguard on their regular Sunday training exercise.
It was not until we were on the boat, that I learned they were going to stage a mock sea rescue - with me as the stranded victim.
And so it was, with the cameras rolling, that Shetland got its revenge as I was pushed overboard.
John Johnston finally got the shot he wanted as dripping wet, I was hauled back on board and proclaimed: "I'll never say a bad word about Shetland again!"
Just to complete the Blue Peter-style experience, we were winched on to an air sea rescue helicopter and taken to the island of Mousa to see the Mousa Broch, a 2,000-year-old stone structure bizarrely named Scotland's top tourist attraction in the latest Lonely Planet guide book.
I can genuinely say I had a fantastic time on Shetland and would recommend the island to anyone.
I'd definitely go back. In fact, I could even imagine living there - if they'd have me...
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