Susan Calman visits Arran

Other TV travellers, try as they might, have a slightly bored, seen it all before air about them (usually because they have), or they seek out jeopardy and uncomfortable situations, hoping it will make for a more exciting film. A few even try to slip in some comment on the world today.

Calman doesn’t do any of that. Wherever Susan goes all is well and everything is right with the world. She is the Mary Poppins and Snow White of the travel documentary combined, her style at odds with the cynical times. For many viewers that is just the ticket.

This week she took “Helen Mirren” (her campervan, not the Oscar-winning dame) to Arran, the scene of many a childhood Calman holiday, as it is for generations of west coasters. On the way she had a smashing time at the Crawick Multiverse, toured Drumlanrig Castle, and bought stamps in Sanquhar at the oldest post office in the world. Her next task: catch the ferry to Brodick.

Oh-oh, I thought. Here comes a test of that sunny Calman disposition. How will she react when the crossing is cancelled due to weather/lack of a vessel/alien abduction of the captain, or any other reasons trotted out by CalMac to explain the dismal service that has islanders and visitors despairing for years.

As it happened, everything was smooth sailing. She drove up to the terminal, straight onto the boat, and that was that. No drama. Arran was Scotland in miniature she told viewers. Actually, this was Scotland as it should be, everything running smoothly and without fuss. But hey, let’s not get political here.

Onwards she went, taking in the Arran Show, playing mini golf on the front, and eventually ending up at Blackwaterfoot, “my favourite beach in the world” where she played three and in with her niece and nephew. And that was it. She had a laugh, we had a laugh, the travel doc wheel remained uninvented, but that was okay.

Sturm and drang, if that was what you were after, was in ample supply in After the Party (Channel 4, Wednesday/Thursday). The final two episodes air next week, so there’s still time to catch up on one of the sleeper hits of the year.

Peter Mullan plays Phil, a Scottish teacher returning to Wellington, New Zealand, to see his daughter and toddler grandson. Phil left five years ago after his wife, Penny (Robyn Malcolm) accused him of sexually assaulting his teenage daughter’s pal at a drunken birthday bash. No charges were brought and public opinion was on Phil’s side. Penny, however, remains adamant that he is guilty.

The writers do an excellent job of selling Phil as an affable guy and his wife Penny as a spiky, difficult, suffer-no-fool sort. A child of the Sixties, Penny backs all the right causes and does all the right things, but she doesn’t like people too much.

Rarely seen without a bottle of red and a hunk of cheese to hand, Pen would try the patience of most viewers. The night she kept poor little Walt out till 10.30pm to prove a point I could have cheerfully given her the hairdryer treatment myself.

After the Party sets out to confound expectations and succeeds. It is easily Mullan’s best performance since Top of the Lake – New Zealand seems to suit him – and the equally terrific Malcolm stands her ground and more. Irresistible: Why We Can’t Stop Eating (BBC2, Monday) opened with Dr Chris van Tulleken in full disclosure mode. His friends and family think he is obsessed with ultra-processed foods. “And they’re right, I am.”

He does seem to have been on screens and in print a lot lately, arguing that junk food is the new tobacco and society requires saving from it. Helping him make the case here were former industry insiders who blew the whistle on the ways Big Food creates and sells food that is cheap, convenient, addictive – and seriously bad for you.

If there was not much new in the arguments, the good doctor had some choice morsels to share about Big Food’s techniques. Food manufacturers, he revealed, frequently approach him to come and have a chat. One offered 20k for a two-hour meeting. Out of curiosity, he asked for more info and was sent a pre-meeting contract that, had he signed, would have silenced him ever after.

The film was front-loaded, with space made available only at the end to the most difficult question: what could the individual do about it, especially those on a low income? He took heart from the notion that the tobacco industry was brought under control eventually (though that’s debatable).

His anger undimmed, and perhaps even inflamed by what he had learned, I’ve a feeling it won’t be long till van Tulleken goes back into battle again.