Diary of a Shopkeeper, 22nd November

‘Who are you calling a quacking carrot?’

We’re deep in Christmas preparations at the moment.  The shelves are full of mulled wine spice-packs, chocolate wrapped in cranberry-coloured foil, and bottles of warming vintage Port.  The decorations are going up - a mixture of giant white and red paper baubles, to match the wine.  On Saturday, our BID Peedie Christmas Tree will be revealed, along with dozens of others throughout Kirkwall town centre.

It’s easy to be cynical about such things, but in the darkest days of a very dark year, it’ll be lightsome to see them.

These thoughts came to mind as I delivered out west at the start of the week.  Some home brew supplies had to be dropped off for a customer who comes in regularly most of the year, but is too busy in November and December to make it into town.  In fact he’s probably 100 times busier in these months than the rest of the year combined.

I’m talking about Feathery Billy, of course, supplier of the finest free-range turkeys, chickens, geese and ducks.  Christmas is hay time for Billy. The track up to his farm is long and bumpy, and he must have seen me coming, for he was waiting when I pulled up, at the door of one of his big, clucking sheds.  As always, there were feathers in his hair, on his clothes, and stuck to the mud on his boots.

After I’d handed over his box of malt, sugar and hops, we yarned for a bit, looking back down the track and across the darkening fields and hills. Off to the south, a yellow haze in the sky showed where Stromness was hunkered down on the far side of Brinkie’s Brae.

‘I hear they’ve got their Christmas lights at last,’ I said.

‘Yas beuy, that was a trachle, but they got there in the end.  Och, it’s just what Stromness needs.’

‘Everybody needs some light this year,’ I said.

‘They’re a marvel to see,’ he said.  ‘All those strings of coloured bulbs going back and across, and the peedie animals and Santas.  It’s grand treat for the bairns – get them away from their computers and down the street.’

 ‘The shopkeepers will be happy too.’

‘They will, they will.  They really are a wonder, those lights.  I’ve travelled the world in my time – Thurso, Wick, Watten – but I’ve never seen anything to compare to the beauty of those lights.’  He nodded.  ‘And when they turn them on it’ll be even better.’

I laughed.  He didn’t.  So I got down to business.

‘Seeing as I’m here,’ I said, ‘I better order a bird.’

His eyes brightened.  ‘What do you fancy this year?  I’ve got plenty of…I’ve not quite run out of anything.  Yet.’           

‘It’ll have to be something not too big,’ I said.  ‘Whatever happens, I doubt there’ll be crowds of folk round on Christmas Day.’

‘What would you say to a duck?’ he said.

‘Good but greasy, Billy, that’s the thing

‘Ach!  Some folk like that, you ken.  They keep the fat and roast their tatties in it on Boxing Day.  But if you don’t want grease, I’ll give you a Muscovy.  They’re no fatter than a quacking carrot.’

‘What’ll you and the family be having, Billy?’

‘We just tend to wait and see what’s left over,’ he said.  ‘I wouldn’t like to take a bird out of a customer’s mouth by grabbing the last one for ourselves.’

‘So what did you have last year?’

‘A fried egg.  Everything else was sold.’

‘What?  That’s terrible!’

‘The bairns weren’t too pleased, it’s true.  Still, it’s good for business.  Anyway, sometimes you lose, sometimes you win.  The year before we had a turduckenon.’

‘A what?’

‘It’s a turkey stuffed with a duck, stuffed with a chicken.  And then I shot a pigeon and put that inside the hen.  And a fried egg on top.’

‘Sounds amazing.’

‘It was a spectacle.  I tell you, if I was ever on that MasterChef, turduckenon would be my signature dish.’

‘The time limit would be a challenge,’ I said.  ‘You surely need more than 90 minutes to roast a turkey.’

‘Ah ha, well.  Over in Texas they’ve crossed a turkey with a roadrunner.  Apparently it cooks very fast indeed.’

I laughed.  He didn’t.

‘I’ll tell you who I feel sorry for at this time of year,’ said Feathery Billy.  ‘Vegetarians.  Imagine, a nut roast for Christmas dinner.  A roasted nut!  That’s not going to fill anyone up.  Even if you have a fried egg with it.’

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 22nd November. Other diaries will appear weekly. I am posting them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.