Diary of a Shopkeeper, 6th December

Cover by Eilidh Warnock of Stromness: book local!

‘O wad some Power the giftie gie us / To see oursels as ithers see us!’

So wrote Robert Burns.  It’s a thought that comes into my head frequently, as tourists wander in and out of the shop in great numbers.  What do they see when they set foot in Orkney, whether for a day or a fortnight?

Of course, there are many different perceptions.  One 30-something English woman said to me, ‘Kirkwall is so old-fashioned.’

‘Do you mean historic?’ I said.  ‘The cathedral?  The palaces’?

‘No, the shops.  It’s all Sheila Fleet this, Judith Glue that, as if they’re run by actual real people called Sheila and Judith.’

‘They are.’

‘So old fashioned!  Don’t you want a Carphone Warehouse or a Claire’s Accessories?’

‘Hold on, are you telling me I won’t meet Claire if I go to her Accessories shop?  In that case, no!  I like the personal touch.  I think you generally get looked after better if the shopkeeper’s behind the counter or at least in the back office.’

Another common observation over the summer is, ‘You’ve got such a slow, relaxing lifestyle here.’  This can raise a wry smile, especially if I’ve been unloading a pallet of wine, serving 20 customers, ordering next week’s cheese, and writing this column.  All before 12 noon.  That doesn’t feel like a slow, relaxing lifestyle.

The funny thing is, that kind of comment is usually made by portly retired gentlemen from Fort Lauderdale or Düsseldorf, currently on a month-long world cruise.  Now that’s what I call relaxing.

This year, of course, tourists have been thin on the ground.  And those few who did make it here were more likely to say, ‘Orkney shops are so well organised – masks and screens and one-way systems.  Where I live it’s just a rammy.’ 

Luckily, an excellent new book has come out that gives an unusually clear-eyed picture of contemporary Orkney.  (Or to be exact, Orkney just before March 2020, when the Covid sky fell in.)

The Stromness Dinner is an account by a London builder called Ed Beech of a working trip he made here in, I’m guessing, 2019.  Strange to use a builder from Bermondsey to do a house clearance in Alfred Street?  Not if you’re a yuppie banker with plenty of money but no time to do the job yourself, nor to research a good local contractor.

We’ll let that point go, because I’m glad Ed Beech came to Stromness.  And I’m especially glad he wrote 270 pages about it.  Well, 50 on London, 20 on the A9 and 200 on Stromness.

I remember Ed well.  As soon as he came in the door of the shop, I could tell he wasn’t a tourist, despite the EastEnders accent.  Folk on cruise liners don’t usually wear tool belts and paint-stained hoodies. 

The other thing I remember is how he was genuinely interested in local food and drink.  He didn’t know anything at all about it, but he wanted to learn: he swallowed up all we could tell him about whisky, beer, bere, cheese, oatcakes, vinegar, honey and much more.  He also swallowed considerable quantities of the produce itself, judging by how he filled his shopping basket, and how he came back for more the next week.

Now he’s published an account of his first visit here, in which he generously mentions K&G as well as other local shops, pubs and landmarks.  But it’s not a foodie’s guide to Orkney, and it’s not really a travelogue either.  There is some of that, and there’s also a little bit of a crime story, and more than a little of a love story.  Two love stories, in fact, if you include Stromness as well as his employer’s sister as objects of his affection.

When I say Ed gives us a clear-eyed view of Orkney, what I mean is his view is unclouded by preconceptions.  He’s never heard of our famous writers, knows nothing about our ancient sites, and our long history is a blank to him. 

What he does know is how to look, which is much more valuable.  He looks and he sees things that rarely if ever make it onto the pages of other writers: bendy buses, civic amenity sites, monks in black habits striding towards the ferry terminal.  He sees these things, and writes about them generously, humorously and with a lightness of touch that makes the pages fly by.

Ed’s account has been lightly edited by novelist Peter Benson, who lived in Eday until recently.  It’s available in all good local bookshops and is highly recommended for Christmas giving.

‘O wad some Peter the giftie gie us / To see wirsels as Ed Beech sees us!’

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 10th December. Other diaries continue to 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.

The Stromnesss Dinner is published by Seren, and is available in Stromness Books & Prints (01856 850565) - where better to buy it! (Have a look at their blog too: https://stromnessbooksandprints.wordpress.com/) I am sure you can also get it in The Orcadian Bookshop in Kirkwall, but haven’t been that far along the street lately to check (01856 878000.)

Peter Benson’s website is full of funny stuff: www.peterbenson.net. Beech Building Services don’t seem to have an online presence.