It may be the depths of winter now, but imagine the scene: having spent all day on the beach during a rare hot August Bank Holiday, a day-tripping family tidies up their detritus.

Nan is levered out of the deckchair and Dad bounces assiduously on the hissing inflatable banana until it slowly goes flaccid and is packed away. Struggling back up the hill, the whining kids, piebald with suncream, are famished from a long day of throwing sand at each other, and Mum’s thinking with little relish about the prospect of heating up tomato soup on the Camping Gaz stove. Just then, a fish and chip shop comes into view, the tempting aroma of hot oil wafting across the pavement and drawing the hapless tourists unresistingly inside.

If our hypothetical hungry family is in Ryde, they’d do well to stop at the first chippy near Appley beach, Monkton Village’s Chipmunks. Matt and Cat have reviewed that venue favourably, but it is only one of several contenders in the town. The family could maybe step a bit further west. No, no, not to the Codfather, slightly south west and up the hill to Wights. Although a tad more than a hop, skip and jump from the beach, this chippy is well-placed at the junction of Ryde’s precinct, near a pub, cinema and bingo hall - perfect for passing hot-snack-hunters. And so it was that Wights was Matt and Cat’s chosen venue for a fish and chip supper with a visiting relative from London.

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Living in the green and pleasant land that is the Isle of Wight, Matt and Cat can't help but wonder how concrete-dwelling urbanites know when summer's arrived.

Surely they don't have the same pastoral indicators that a rural county can boast? No wildflower verges, shrieking swallows or the tedium of crawling through Sandown behind a mid-summer turkey and tinsel coach. Matt and Cat list these plus other key performance indicators, such as the sublime mid-summer pleasure of eating fish and chips out of their wrappers in a rainy and windswept coastal town. Following some enthusiastic recommendations, Matt and Cat headed to the Ventnor Haven Fishery to partake in this traditional seaside dinner ritual.

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Didn't somebody once say that Stotesbury's fish and chip shop, in Upper St James' Street Newport, was the oldest on the Island? Or in England? Or something?

Matt's got a vague memory of something about the antiquity of this shop being of note. But no matter. Somebody will doubtless set the record straight, for now it's not the issue. Far more importantly, can Stotesbury's produce decent fish and chips here, today? If so, Matt's interested. And Cat isn't. Because she just can't bring herself to eat fish and chips, no, not even if you wrap a pink ribbon around it and tickle her under the chin.

So one rainy winter evening M & C were in Newport seeking out a quick supper. Unable to agree on a venue, they decided on an unprecedented experiment to undertake two simultaneous reviews in separate venues. Cat, spurning the chip shop, went off to make her own investigations elsewhere. Matt, let off the leash, shot into Stotesbury's like a rat down a drainpipe.

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I say! You, yes you over there! Read this review, won't you? There's a good chap.

Cowes, in the run-up to Cowes Week, is just like that. Everything is vying for your attention. Nowhere else on the Island can one gain such a concentrated sample of the 'yachty set'. Shouts from the well-heeled ring across the bustling High Street; shops appear suddenly with names like KooBooToo and Yimsy, selling unidentifiable objects at unfathomable prices. Beggars and pedlars appear unaccountably on the streets. Every man is either attired in a football shirt, or deck-shoes and cargo shorts. Every woman has the leathery over-tanned complexion of 'Skullrika' Jonsson, and a massive pair of sunglasses. It's a delightful place to visit - for mainlanders, obviously, but also for Islanders. Matt and Cat love to go and bask in the Cowes summer atmosphere. It's like a little world of its own, even if the town falls over itself to reinforce its own stereotypes.

So, this week M & C were in Cowes on the way to an evening appointment and enjoying the Cowes Week ambience. With only a short time to eat, they reluctantly decided against old favourite the Red Duster - that needs time to fully appreciate. On the way up the hill they spotted Corries Cabin - the original fish and chip shop which spawned a namesake in Ryde that Matt is quite partial to. Usually it's the welcome job of Matt and his lads to sort out the chip shops - Cat is not too keen on them. But Corries Cabin in Cowes looked so tempting that before she knew it, the Cat had been shooed inside and shown into a chair by her eager consort.

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Visit the website: http://www.facebook.com/CorriesCowes

Matt's got a heavy responsibility to shoulder- he's got to do the chip shops, as Cat won't ever go into them - well, hardly ever, anyway. But the problem with this task is that it does limit his access to fish and chip emporia which are not close to his home in East Wight - because a takeaway that's been in the car for half an hour probably isn't going to get a fair review.

So it was with pleasure that Matt recently took the opportunity to taste the wares of the Rainbow Fish Bar, a prominent feature of Freshwater's busy Avenue Road. Working late out west, Matt needed to grab a bite before he went on to a meeting. He could have been sensible, and gone into the Co-op for some healthy wrap and a carton of juice. Or he could have pulled his jacket over his head and marched down Avenue Road clucking like a chicken - it's about as likely. No, friends, it was straight to the chip shop he went.

On arrival there was a very cheerful welcome - and this amiable chat continued as Matt waited for his order. It was early in the evening so the hot cupboards were well stocked with sausages and the like. Pleasingly all the fish was cooked to order and Matt waited whilst his haddock was given the treatment. The Rainbow Fish Bar is a funny little place, a fish bar of the old school; spotless and gleaming, with a phalanx of smartly uniformed servers just itching to dish out fish.

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