Diary of a Shopkeeper, 24th April
With only a fortnight to go before 5th May, election fever is raging across the land.
‘What election?’ said Bruce Brass.
‘The elections for the council!’ I cried.
‘What council?’
‘Orkney Islands Council,’ I said. ‘And all the local authorities across the country. For god’s sake Bruce, you must ken about it. You of all folk, who’re always in a blue lowe about School Place.’
‘Well, if it’s Orkney Islands Council I probably haven’t seen anything,’ he said. ‘You ken Google alerts, where you get an email whenever some subject’s mentioned on the web? Well, I have the same thing, but in reverse: www.wheesht.com. It watches what you’re browsing, and if you click onto one of your trigger words, it skites right over that page. It wheeshts it, to use the technical term.’
‘Amazing. So you’ve entered Orkney Islands Council as a banned phrase?’
‘That’s the only catch with wheesht.com, you can only enter single words. So I have to put in Orkney. It does mean I don’t see any OIC blethers, but it makes it hard if I want to book a Wheesht Islands Ferry or check when Wheesht Factors opens.’
‘That’s a pain.’
‘Aye, but it’s done wonders for my mental health. My blood pressure has gone under 90/60 for the first time since the linkspan broke at Gills Bay.’
‘But that was 1989!’
‘Yaas, a chronic condition the doctor called it. But I’ve changed my lifestyle for the better. And let me tell you, ignorance is bliss.’
While we’d been talking, a young guy I didn’t know came in with his daughter. The wee girl was clutching a BID Toon Treasure Trail form she obviously wanted to hand in, so I picked up the box of Easter eggs to give her one in exchange.
‘I couldn’t help hearing what you were talking about,’ said the dad. ‘I have to say, not all the councillors are bad. I’m sorry to see Councillor Richards retiring, for instance’
‘John Richards?’ I said. ‘Lovely man – very active on housing.’
‘No,’ said the dad, ‘Not him. I’m talking about Keith Richards.’
I laughed. ‘Councillor Keef?’
‘That’s him. It’s amazing he was able to do that as well as being rhythm guitarist for the Rolling Stones.’
I could see Brue was starting to go red in the face. ‘He’s just another one not taking it seriously,’ he growled. ‘Half of the blighters are running farms or businesses when they should be representing US!’
‘Keith is very committed when he’s not touring the world with Mick and the boys,’ said the dad. ‘You’ll know him, shopkeeper: I’m sure he sits on the licensing committee.’
I laughed again. ‘Oh aye. Since Oliver Reed passed away, Keith Richards has been our go to contact for responsible alcohol retailing.’
‘I walked all over Kirkwall,’ said the wee girl.
‘Were you canvassing?’ said Bruce. ‘You’d make a better job than half those numpties!’
His eyes were bulging over his mask. I was starting to worry my election small talk had inadvertently undone months of Wheeshting.
‘I want my chocolate egg,’ said the girl.
‘I want doesn’t get,’ said the dad.
‘Ach, it does in this shop,’ I said. ‘We try our best, anyway.’ I held out the box of eggs, and her hands fluttered over the chocolates like butterflies till she made her choice.
‘I want a truly independent representative elected body,’ said Bruce through gritted teeth, ‘But I never get it. Whoever I vote for the blooming Liberals always get in.’
‘But the Liberals aren’t standing!’ I said.
Everybody laughed, even the peedie lass with chocolate round her mouth.
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 27th April. 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.