I’ve seen several buildings advertising virgin money; the mind boggles!
A wee man got on the bus in a small village between Stromness to Kirkwall, in his once-dapper blue jacket and faded walking cane. Deafness wasn’t going to prevent a conversation. He was off to town because the village shop was a wee bit dear. The smoke on his clothes soon dried my throat, and soured my tastebuds. Born in Orkney, he’d moved to Caithness to spend 30 years building power poles; hard dangerous work he loved. Retirement brought him back to Orkney. He hoped to visit Shetland one day. Thought he might last year, and this, so maybe next year…
Kirkwall’s main street offered teddy stuffing, and shop windows full of treats, in fibre, food and whiskey, or jewelry. The ‘Just slate’ company sold glass and silver jewelry but no slate. A thin, purple-haired busker in scrunched pink socks, red lipstick, gypsy vest, 1/2 trousers, mouth organ and guitar was walking the streets of London, according to the song. Two hours later he was walking those same streets. And half an hour after that he was walking them again…
Up a cobbled side alley, Lolz Cafe beckoned. Cash only, seats 16, with a mother-daughter team welcoming customers as old friends (most were), serving perfectly crumbly scones, Cullen skink and other tasty treats. The scone comes with a wee jar of jam to keep. Having never heard of Cullen skink, I tried it. Large pieces of fresh fish and potato in thick creamy broth, served with slabs of fresh bread; absolutely delicious.
The kitchen at Lolz is about 2&1/2 metres squared. The framed hygiene certification is issued by ‘High speed training limited’, as though that name inspires confidence.
The mother had owned a 110-seat place for years, down-sized to 46, but now preferred the intimacy of her present site. Locals drop in to chat and eat. What to get a young lad for his birthday (rugby stripe with collar), what daughter’s wearing to wedding next week (green floral), and be careful, chicken pox is rife in the west. Who’s going to win the rugby tonight; better not be South Africa (it wasn’t).
The owner’s brother dropped in and got beans for not ironing his shirt for the last event he went to. A lad, Wilf, proudly announced he was 7 now! And a table was shifted so the man with a white cane could get to his preferred seat. A wee lass of maybe three years old entered the café, twirling her multilayered yellow princess dress, which came complete with brocade and matching jacket. Mum had made it for her to wear to ‘Beauty and the beast,’ but first lunch at Lolz with a cousin and Grandma.
Though we were theoretically customers, since everyone paid, it was hard to shake the feeling I was in the owner’s dining room with friends. The daughter has a NZ passport, having been born in Queenstown, and both mother and daughter return regularly.
The gossip about the Stromness Hotel where I’d been staying involved some angry emotions. The hotel had been the local favorite, with long traditions of whiskey nights, community-centred activities, and a sense of being Stromness’s hub. But then a Bahai group purchased it, turned it dry and kicked the locals out. The bitterness is real.
In Kirkwall, I purchased a book and looked for a warm spot to settle. Teens inhabited the bus station waiting room; young lads vaping and chasing each other with tampons. They scoffed when asked to go outside to vape, but when I joked about how I turn into a dragon in the presence of vaping, they put the vapes away. Thus started an hour of conversation about their hopes and expectations; just kids with little to do and not much hope. One girl of 14 moved closer; her crossed arms and folded body spoke of low esteem. We talked about Orkney, her family, my life, and the loneliness of trying to replace inappropriate friends with worthwhile ones. She asked if boys ever grow up. She, Lileth, spoke proudly of her mother’s work trapping stouts, and of how she likes her mum’s boyfriend who lives on a farm. She initially dismissed her father, but came back to it, admitting she didn’t have contact with him because she doesn’t cope with his depression and feels embarrassed to talk to anyone about him. Lileth thought it hilarious that we used to have a large black sow of the same name, who was a gentle giant, allowing kids to ride on her back, but who was also very determined when it came to achieving her goals.
Kids on Orkney get to use the local buses for free, so the group eventually headed out to the airport to see what was happening. Nothing would be, but they went anyway.
Just on dusk Kirkwall pier was pretty deserted. A notice to fishermen about a scheme for plastic and other rubbish caught in nets mentioned fishermen’s kisses. In a nearby office, the three maritime personnel I queried about fishermen’s kisses were generous enough not to lead me astray! Fishermen’s kisses are the knots in fishing nets. However the laugh was on the gents; not one of them had noticed the signs wording, and they came out to read it for themselves.
In the Kirkwall Hotel bar, a woman my age commented that she was very surprised to find how civilized the place was. She wondered where they learnt it from.
A retired plumber from Yorkshire carefully explained the correct way to pour tap guiness. 3-parts fill the glass, then leave it for exactly 1 minute and 22 seconds, then top up by pulling the handle backwards. Now I know.
Another gent showed me a ring made for his grandfather by an Italian p.o.w from a piece of German airplane fuselage.
Kirkwall hotel offers 50 year old whiskey at 999.50 pounds a glass, but the same brand just 10 years old is 4 pound 40.
They also have quaint toilet roll holders.
And last, but not least, the cathedral at Kirkwall is owned by the people of Orkney… but they let the church use it.
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