Diary of a Shopkeeper, 1st June
Seeing red. The shop at a quieter moment.
It’s rare that international geopolitical incidents break out in Kirkness & Gorie, but that seemed to be what was happening a couple of days ago. It all kicked off during what was the busiest week for liners in the first half of the year.
This summer is marked by a great reduction in cruise passengers. Numbers for June are down from 53,000 last year to 39,000 this year, a reduction of 26%. Forecast July figures are down enormously, from 63,000 to 25,000, a whopping 60% reduction. (Island Games athletes and spectators will balance that out by a few thousand, but overall there will still be a huge drop.) August is expected to hold steady at around 48,000 cruise visitors.
What this means is that we’ve recruited one fewer seasonal staff than last year, and will buy in less of the local produce that the cruise passengers, like all visitors, want to take home: whisky, gin, beer, cheese, fudge, jam, chutney and so on. It’s all swings and roundabouts, though, as the folk who thought last year was too busy down the street will surely be coming in more frequently themselves given that it’s going to be noticeably quieter this summer.
All of which takes me back to one day last week, a day that was dominated by a very large liner, the largest of the season.
For the tenth time that morning, the thousandth time this summer, I was explaining to an elderly couple that Scapa whisky doesn’t come in miniatures. To ease their disappointment, I complimented them on their matching Canadian flag lapel pins: broad red and white vertical stripes, with a red maple leaf in the middle.
‘I love that your flag has a reminder of your national food on it,’ I said, ‘Maple syrup! All flags should feature a food icon. The Orkney one would have two crossed spoots.’
The couple smiled, and the man looked over his shoulder before saying quietly, ‘We just want everyone to know we’re Canadian. We don’t want anyone here to think we’re, you know…’
‘From south of the border,’ added the woman, in a near whisper.
‘Now you mention it,’ I said, ‘I have noticed quite a few Canadian flags on hats and jackets this year.’
I didn’t speak quietly enough. From further along the whisky shelves, a louder voice broke in: ‘You better enjoy those maple leaves while you can, buddy. Pretty soon they’ll all be wearing the stars and stripes!’
The speaker wasn’t wearing a flag, but the Miami Beach Golf Club hoodie he had on was a pretty good indication of his origin.
‘Not again!’ sighed the Canadian woman.
‘We’re all just trying to get along and enjoy our cruise,’ said the Canadian man. ‘Why don’t you keep your politics to yourself?’
The Miami man snorted. ‘Pretty soon your politics are gonna be our politics – when you Canucks become the fifty-first state!’
‘Never going to happen,’ said the Canadian man, fiercely. ‘Never!’
His wife’s fists were clenched, and she was quivering with anger.
‘If I could just break in,’ I said, facing the American. ‘Can I help you find anything?’
‘Yeah buddy, you got any small bottles of that there Scapa scotch?’
After he left, another disappointed customer, I apologised to the Canadians.
‘Not your fault,’ said the woman. ‘We’ve had this almost every day on the cruise.’
‘We’ve been to the US many times,’ said the man, ‘But never again. Not while You Know Who is on the throne.’
‘We won’t say his name,’ said the woman.
‘We don’t talk about him or politics on the boat,’ said the man, ‘But there’s a minority of Americans now, they think they have license to throw their weight about and insult us and everyone else.’
They looked genuinely sad about this, and I shared their sadness. Every summer I have many entertaining, enlightening conversations with American visitors. It happens with visitors from all over the world, but Americans tend to be more open than most, more talkative, keener to share their views and enthusiasms than people from other countries. Usually that’s a pleasure, but this year there seems to be a difference. A couple of days after this incident, different Canadians mentioned to the Longship staff that they were surprised someone hadn’t been thrown overboard yet, such was the open animosity towards Canada from a small number of American shipmates.
Another member of staff told me that an American visitor laughed at her Orkney accent and loudly mocked Scottish accents generally: a boorish attempt to entertain his friends while putting down the ignorant locals.
Thankfully this kind of behaviour is exhibited by only a small minority of US visitors. But before this year it was exhibited by none at all. Something has changed. Ignorant, ill-informed opinions that once would’ve been kept private are now voiced loudly. Permission has been given to be insulting and xenophobic.
I blame You Know Who.
This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 5th June 2025. A new diary appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations, and occasional small corrections or additions.
Something unprecedented happened to the newspaper publication this week: a mistake was made during the layout of the paper, meaning that the last two lines of the column were accidentally chopped off. So here you are reading the full, unexpurgated version for the first time!