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The Repair Shop review – is there a lovelier show on TV?

I am not sure there is a more lovely show on television than The Repair Shop, now perfectly settled in to its newish primetime home on BBC One, following its promotion from Two earlier this year. It is so good-natured and pure, so wholesome and nice, that at times it seems too good for this cold and cynical world.

The people who bring in family heirlooms for a scrubbing-up or a full-body rebuild bring their stories with them, and their stories, as ever, are heartwarming. The set-ups are always borderline surreal, but one of this week’s big stories is truly fantastic: “Suzie repairs a leather wallet that helped save a world war two air crew marooned at sea.” You don’t get that on Celebrity Antiques Road Trip. Andrew has brought in an old wallet, falling apart at every seam, damaged beyond what anyone might reasonably assume could be fixed. It belonged to his father, an airman who was shot down in 1941 and ended up in a liferaft with no paddles. The wallet became a makeshift oar. Suzie sets about restoring it with such an eye for the finest of details that she needs two pairs of glasses to see the stitching.

There is a lot of magic in The Repair Shop, but the big reveal, after any given object has been tended to and restored to its previous form, should really come with a warning to bring tissues. These objects, of course, are so often memorials to the person who left them behind, that to see them brought back to life is to see their owner again. Andrew is moved to tears when he gets it back. “Oh, Dad,” he sighs. Suzie has put a halfpenny in it, from 1941; she was taught never to hand over a purse or wallet without any money in it. There is a deep respect for tradition as well as workmanship here.

The work, though, is brilliant. For anyone dismayed by throwaway, disposable culture, this highlights the value of mending and fixing, and of learning the skills to do so. Julianna brings in an old stereo system that was made by her father from scratch. She remembers it making the whole house boom with music. Mark, who takes on the repair, is excited by the amplifier in particular, an old vacuum model with an open top to show off its workings. Presenter Jay suggests plugging it in to see if it still works. But Mark explains that there is no room for hastiness here, that there is only one chance to see if it works without blowing the whole thing up, and it has to be done slowly, and carefully. I thought Mark had lost patience with it for a moment, that he was frustrated by the “effin’ tuner”. It was all very un-Repair Shop. I then realised that he had said “FM”.

The pace is the secret ingredient that makes this so wonderful. The time that goes into these fixes is palpable. Suzie has to stitch the wallet by hand, painstakingly and slowly. Mark has to first examine the parts, to see if they could work, then he carefully lets the power in, just a bit at a time, just to see what might be possible. Nothing is done recklessly and nothing is rushed. This is only an hour long but it contains the spirit of slow TV.

There is usually some ancient craft on display, something that puts my own personal skill of using tape to keep the battery cover on the remote to shame. This week, it is wheelwrighting, one of the oldest ever crafts, which involves making and repairing wooden wheels. It is mesmerising. Jacqui from Kent brings in a wooden barrow decorated in bright yellow, red and blue. It is, she explains, a banana barrow, used by her grandfather, Benny the Banana King, to show off the bananas he sold in his fruit and veg shop. It has seen better days, and she would like to restore it, to plant it up in her garden, as a memorial to her late father, who had inherited the Banana King title. What Greg and Dominic manage to do is remarkable.

This whole concept is remarkable, really. No wonder it is a hit. It is a celebration of fine work, family history and sheer enthusiasm. For those of us who took up a hobby during any unexpected downtime, this is an inspiration. Perhaps one day, you might be called on to solder a banana bread tin back together, so it can tell its own story about 2020.