Let’s showcase the makars and their legacy of Scottish quality - Susan Morrison
The population of Kirkwall is about 7000, so there aren’t that many people rattling about the streets on any given day. Unless, of course, that day is when Orkney’s ship comes in, and by that, I mean the arrival of a liner bearing many, many Americans with money to spend. By jingo, they are ready to open their wallets.
And oh boy, this stuff is excellent. Each shop sells something a little different. Of course, there are wee Hielan’ Coos, tea towels and plastic pipers, but here you’ll find beautiful locally-made silver jewellery, knitwear and craft pieces.
Yes, it’s pricey. Of course it is. These are the sort of things you’d keep for a lifetime.
One lady stopped to show me something she’s bought for her grand-daughter. She was at school studying medicine, she said. I suspect she meant university. We didn’t even teach basic first aid when I was at school. We left that sort of training to the Girl Guides. It’s where I got my First Aider badge. This does not mean I am of any use in a medical emergency. In fact, top tip for you good people out there, should you come over all faint, I’d avoid me.
The rightfully proud granny had bought a bracelet as a graduation gift, and it was stunning. One glance and I blew the Tenth Commandment out of the window. Yeah and verily, I did covet that exquisitely crafted silver bangle.
I briefly entertained the idea of snatching and running, but there’s no point in committing crime on an island where everyone knows everyone else and the only way you can get off is aboard the ship you sailed in on.
Instead, I recalled my Girl Guide training. Oh, it’s all right, the nice lady didn’t seem faint, but I recalled the promise to be courteous. I think it's rule 6.
It was a beautiful gift, I said. Don’t forget to take the price tag off. I had just spotted it. I briefly needed the services of an enthusiastic Guide with a First Aid badge.
“Oh”, she said, “I just love it, but do you know what’s the best thing?
“It’s made in Scotland, and that’s what I was looking for. The girl in the shop told me all about it. In London I got tired of looking for things to buy and then found out they were all made somewhere else.”
Quite unbidden, Edinburgh’s High Street retail offering came into my mind.
We who live here don’t pay them that much attention, but perhaps we should.
Shop after shop sells industrial quantities of cheap tat, much of it made abroad.
That’s not entirely a bad thing. There’s a market for cuddly Nessies.
No, it’s the grim sameness of these shops. Each one is selling exactly the same mass-produced tartan trinkets.
There are buyers for good quality. There are fantastic designers and great makars in this city. Lets showcase their work, so that our visitors can see, touch and buy lovely things that are Made in Scotland.
Kirkwall’s Viking past seems to have been replaced by the far more sensible notion of selling stuff to people.
It makes sense. Why bother with the old burning and looting when you can make just as much moolah sitting in your cosy shop selling seriously good merch.