It's the Aran Islands in the bay of Galway, not the Arran Island in Scotland, so mostly Black Bush & Guinness, fish & chips and stews. I must admit booze & food were much better in the Shetlands.
But the place is fantastic: practically no trees, some grass for the animals (and foxes & bunnies), and wast swaths of naked limestone (with fossils), polished and eroded by the rains:
The island was so poor the inhabitants, apart from fishing and a bit of ship wrecking, dug beds into the limestone and tried to grow potatoes in a mixture of beach sand and seaweed.
They also made famous sweaters, each family having its personal type of knot – so the corpse wearing it could later be identified as crabs don't eat wool. Well, you can still get them, and I have one.
It's also the Mecca of Celtic Music©, even the Picts themselves come there to learn from the masters.
People are a bit gruff, but earned my sympathy: drinking in one of the pubs around midnight I saw two young Guardai coming in to enforce closing hours. Everybody laughed and gently, very gently, pushed them out the door. They never came back.