Diary of a Shopkeeper, 21st June
Midsummer Saturday brought a welcome spell of sunshine, and perfect conditions for a walk down a quiet West Mainland road.
Quiet, that is, till a yell came from the far side of the field I was passing: ‘Hey! Wine man! How you going?’ It was Kiwi Kate, and she was trotting towards me through the grass and buttercups. Her Shetland ponies scattered at her approach, then looked curiously after her as she neared the dyke and came to a safe halt six feet away from me.
‘I’ve got something to say about your last Diary,’ she said. ‘You can put in in your next Diary.’
‘I’ve never done that before,’ I said. ‘Talked about one column in another one. Is it not a bit boring?’
‘After you’ve been shut up for three months with nothing but ponies and chooks for company, nothing’s boring. Anyway, there’s a first time for everything. Like that bottle of French wine you sneaked into my six-pack a couple of weeks ago. First time I’ve ever tried French wine, and you know what, it wasn’t too bad. I never knew they’d started making Sauv Blanc there.’
‘Well actually, Sauvignon Blanc originated in France, probably in the Loire Valley near Sancerre and Pouilly. Way back in Medieval times…’
‘Give it a rest, mate. That’s all just facts. I could say Sauv Blanc came from a lab in China, and who could prove me wrong? That’s not what I want to talk about.’
She half-turned and pointed up the beautiful pasture towards her garden and its red post. ‘You know what I’ve been paying attention to lately? My ponies. And I was thinking, they’re just like you shopkeepers in the town.’
‘Okay…eh…how do you work that out?’
‘Your diary was saying we were in for tough times. Because we’ve built up tourism so well that when the tourists don’t come we’re in trouble.’
‘Well that’s part of it. There’s limited ways you can make a living when you’re a small island, with a small community, a long way away from big population centres.’
‘I’m from New Zealand, remember? You don’t need to tell me about small islands far far away, eh. Look at the ponies. What do you see? The rough winter coats finally rubbed away: they’re sleek, they’re glossy, they’re beautiful. Ready for the summer.’
‘Ready for the shows!’
‘Not this year. But you get my drift? In the summer, the shopkeepers and café owners take off their winter coats. You make yourselves beautiful for the summer. And you do the same for your window displays and your shelves and your menus and your wine lists. Everything’s has to look bonzer. The streets too. You’ve got those fantastic hanging baskets of flowers, and the boxes in the upstairs windows. Sweet as, bro! What your community council’s doing there, they’re turning the town into my meadow.’
She leaned back on the dyke and gazed happily at her two acres of green grass, yellow buttercups and white daisies. And her three black ponies, driddlan towards her across the field.
‘Here come the shopkeepers,’ I said.
‘It’s all connected,’ said Kiwi Kate, clapping a pony on its shining flank as it stuck its nose under her arm. ‘Town or country, Auckland or Orkney. We’re all in this together. She’ll be right.’
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Yeah, nah.’
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 25th June. 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.