There are a few things about living on the Isle of Wight so axiomatic that Island residents will be bemused to even hear them discussed. Taxis are one. You never, ever take a taxi on the Island unless someone else is paying. As everyone knows, they are fearfully expensive and inefficient. Well, to be fair they may or may not be expensive and inefficient, but as nobody who lives here has ever been in one it's hard to say. Quite possibly the Island has the world's best value taxi firms, but we'd never find out. Isle of Wight Pearl is another. Wildly popular with coach parties, this mysterious building is terra incognita to Islanders. It could be the finest entertainment on earth - or not. We have no idea what goes on in there or why.

So, what else? Food on the ferries. Ah, yes. From early childhood, Island children are told 'No, you can't have any sweets/drinks/cakes/chips etc' as a regular part of their trips on the ferry. This stricture carries on into adulthood. Snacks, maybe, but few Islanders will willingly eat a full meal on the ferry, on the assumption, passed down from father to son, that the food will be of such extraordinarily high price and low quality that the experience might prove fatal.

Recently, Matt and junior reviewers Bill and Jack found themselves travelling homewards with some friends. It came about that the party were eventually in the position of having to put ferry fodder to the test. A long drive back was delayed to such an extent that the only chance of getting on the boat in a timely fashion was to eat dinner on board. Various increasingly unlikely scenarios were devised to attempt to avoid this, but the practicality of arranging pizza delivery in the marshalling-yard having defeated them, Matt and party finally bowed to the inevitable and prepared to be fleeced. Did Red Funnel rise to the occasion, or did the shipboard supper sink without a trace? Read on to find out.

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Visit the website: http://redfunnel.co.uk

Shops in Cowes - and indeed people - seem to be divided into two broad groupings. Either impossibly chic and inaccessible; or quaint to the point of impracticality. Both have their merits, but Matt and Cat undoubtedly tend to favour the fanciful when faced with the choice.

So with that in mind it is perhaps no surprise that when strolling through Cowes one afternoon, Matt and Cat stopped for a late lunch at the Watch House Barn in Bath Road. Quite a few other places to eat had already put up the shutters, but the Watch House still looked warm and welcoming. As M & C stood outside peering vaguely at the menu, any last traces of indecision were eliminated when they looked in to see a working model train chugging around the eatery. That definitely counts as quaint. So in they went, and took their seats underneath the whooshing wheels of the constantly circling locomotives.

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Visit the website: http://www.watchousebarn.co.uk/

Cowes: a winter evening. Commuters scurry home through the drizzle. An impossibly well-dressed young man with a suitcase stands on a street-corner, bleating into his phone.

Matt and Cat are accosted by this youth, who is gibbering pitifully. "Are you from Isle of Wight?" he beseeches. On confirmation, he eagerly explains his plight. Pater has come to meet him at the ferry. In the car. But Pater has gone to East Cowes of all places. Junior thus finds himself on the wrong side of the river and is at a loss. Neither he nor Pater has ever had to deal with such a crisis. They are mortified. The phone squawks in impatience as he discourses. He breaks off regularly to mollify it: Pater is not accustomed to being kept waiting. With a great deal of careful explanation, the filial rendezvous is arranged via the chain ferry and eventually a grateful Junior strides off hopefully, his woollen scarf flapping in the wind. M & C, entertained by this distraction, find themselves standing outside Mojac's Restaurant on Shooter's Hill. So, in they go.

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Visit the website: http://www.mojacs.co.uk

Matt and Cat flipped a coin one evening and, at the whim of our good Queen Elizabeth, aimed for Cowes for something to eat. Having heard talk that there was yet another Indian restaurant in the yachting Mecca, they set out to find it.

On their way through the Byzantine one way system, Matt and Cat found themselves outside Manuel's. Remembering Oliver Cramer's suggestion on this very site, they decided to go European ethnic instead of Asian. However, the Portuguese restaurant looked decidedly closed; it was early - about 6:00pm. Noting its location for a future visit, they continued through the precinct.

Bumping into some chums who were also on a quest for food, they decided to join forces and bimbled along together through the town. Whilst chattering away, they walked past previously reviewed venues such as Saffron, Pier View and Cowes Tandoori in their search for the new Indian restaurant. By the time they'd got close to the end of the town, their tummies were rumbling so, forgetting about the (mythical?) Indian they entered the nearest eaterie - The Union.

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There have been whispers that Matt and Cat generally keep to the Island's scofferies, eschewing the more upmarket establishments. In fact, County Press columnist Keith Newbery congratulated them for being "real punters talking about real grub". Is it indecision, poverty or scruffiness that keeps your reviewers out of the nouvelle cuisineries? Probably a pinch of all three plus a soupçon of idleness.

So, to prove the naysayers wrong - hopefully without overly annoying Mr Newbery in the process - Matt and Cat put a pin in the 'posh eateries' section of the Yellow Pages and stabbed the name of Albert Cottage Hotel with their tiny stainless steel bayonet. Did they manage to get through the door without Matt being sent home for a tie?

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