Diary of a Shopkeeper, 31st May

I’d been hoping for a blether with Mr K, and maybe another inspirational history lecture, but it was Mrs K who answered the door.

‘The lockdown’s lifted,’ she said, ‘As soon as he heard he headed for the loch.

‘It’s lifted a bit,’ I said, ‘Not completely.’

‘Enough to slip a trout under.’

I laughed and set down their delivery, then continued on my rounds. 

Sometimes driving around brings an optimistic mood, as rainbow signs on windows and garage doors catch your eye, and people thank you warmly for their deliveries.  Other times the emotions can be darker.  The CD player in the van doesn’t work, so all I have to listen to is the radio, and catching the news is a quick route to feeling bad these days. 

Not so much about the present.  Well, the infections and deaths are still there, which is terrible, but at least the numbers are levelling off.  It’s the future that gets me down.  Sometimes I drive past a hotel or B&B and know it will have been booked solid all summer – and is unlikely to get any income all year.  Or a field of beef cattle, that might have been destined for the county’s restaurants, all closed for many months to come.  Or even a visitor attraction that employed guides, shop assistants, and maintenance staff – no visitors to pay their wages this summer. 

There seems little doubt that Orkney is heading for an extremely difficult economic time, involving job losses, cancelled investments, and even business closures.  And that in turn will lead to stress for individuals, crises for family finances, and a surge in mental health problems.  This autumn and winter the chill will affect us all – some of us very severely.

I pulled over in a layby.  These forecasts are very likely to come true, but it doesn’t help to brood on them.  What I needed was a sideways look at the problems of the moment.  And I know just the man to provide that: The Wise Old Shopkeeper.  I gave him a ring.

When I got through, he sounded as cheery as ever – despite having been through a series of health problems lately.  ‘How are you doing?’ I said.

‘I’m still here,’ he replied, ‘That’s the main thing.’

‘And where’s here?’

‘Planet Earth.  Well, that’s where I am anyway – where are you?’

I laughed.  ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘You’ve been around the block a few times.  You’ve seen good days and bad days.  What do you think us shopkeepers should do to keep cheerful?’

‘Have you tried dancing naked round the garden?’

‘Funnily enough I haven’t.  Have you?’

‘I tried it once, but they keep a close watch on me now…don’t think I’d get away with it again.’

‘But seriously, what do you think’s going to happen to Orkney?’

‘What’s happening now is lambing, and the kye are getting out onto grass, and the sun’s shining.  Don’t let it fool you.  The flan hasn’t hit the fan yet.’  (He didn’t say ‘flan’, but you get the drift.)  ‘I’ve seen the flan hit the fan before, and it isn’t fun.  But this winter there’s going to be more flan hitting the fan than ever before.’

‘I was hoping you were going to cheer me up.’

‘Sorry, not this time.’  There was a pause, and I could hear The Wise Old Shopkeeper breathing, and thinking, both sounds amplified by the speakerphone in his echoey room.  ‘I’ve got just the thing,’ he said at last.  ‘This is bound to cheer you up.’

‘Great!  What is it?’

‘Go and talk to Mr K.’

‘Thanks Tam.  A very wise idea.’

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 4th June. Other diaries will appear weekly as long as the Covid-19 crisis goes on. I am posting them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.