Diary of a Shopkeeper, 28th November

A strange thing happened last week. I don’t mean Kirkwall BID’s Winter Wonderland, though that was strange in the sense of unique and amazing. 6,000 people coming to a skating rink in a cold and windy car park! 2,000 visiting a giant snow globe! Singing princesses wandering the streets!

Yes, all very amazing: enormous fun for everyone concerned, and a boost to many businesses in the November doldrums.

My strange experience was, however, inspired by the Wonderland: everyone getting in a merry mood convinced me it was time to hang some decorations in the shop. Usually I wait till December 1st, or maybe a day or two earlier. But this year, seeing all those folk getting festive and cheerful on the rink, despite the freezing rain, set me marching back to Broad Street, the key to our store-cupboard ready in my hand.

And out came the boxes of baubles, the glittering reindeer for the whisky shelves, the strands of lights to brighten our courtyard.

Can anyone explain, by the way, why lights that were packed away perfectly neatly in January, emerge in November in a total raffle? Have they been wriggling about in the box like green wiry worms? Whatever the cause, they always come out well and truly fankled. I call it the Christmas Kringle Effect.

Finally, I took our trusty stepladder, veteran of countless decorating stints, into the shop, and set to work.

The first three red paper baubles went up no problem. We worked out the perfect placing for them ages ago, and leave tiny hooks in place all year round, so it’s easy to hang them. It being a dark and damp November morning helped too, as there were no customers in the shop to trip over the tinsel.

It was while I was climbing up to fix the fourth bauble, the whisky bottles on one side of the ladder and the panettones on the other, that the strange thing happened.

I was climbing upwards, paper decoration in one hand, the other gripping firmly onto the handrail, and I had just put my foot on the middle rung when…slowly…strangely…I started to sink downwards. It was like the ladder had changed into an escalator and I was facing forwards while being borne backwards.

Then, all of a sudden, BUMP! I landed on my backside on the shop floor! As I fell, my right hand held tight to the paper bauble, but my left one flailed sideways for support, sending two panettones and a panbriacone flying across the shopfloor. (Panbriacone? It’s an Italian sponge cake soaked in Vin Santo sweet wine – delicious!)

For a second I lay there, winded. I did a quick wiggle of all limbs – nothing broken. And in fact I seemed to have landed surprisingly gently, as if my fall and been cushioned by something.

Then I remembered the double bratwurst and fried onions from Archive Coffee’s log cabin at the Winter Wonderland. I’d put it in my coat pocket as I rushed along the street, intending to have it at lunchtime.  Now, instead of providing a tasty snack, it had acted to save my rear end from a bruising encounter with the lino.

I propped myself up on my elbows, and saw that the middle rung of the step ladder had sheared away from the side rail on the right, not suddenly, but slowly and steadily – hence my gradual descent, which probably saved me from serious injury.

But wait! As I got to my feet and patted myself down, my hands came away from my back covered in blood!

Except it wasn’t blood. It was tomato ketchup from the squashed bratwursts.

Which all goes to show: check your ladders regularly. And never underestimate the value of a good sausage.

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 1st December. A new one appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.