'The Shore' and roond aboot
By Dave Tinch

I almost wish my schooldays had been spent in Orkney, after reading Dave Tinch¹s account of what he recognises now, probably are the best days of your life.

Certainly in his case they were full of daredevil escapades and endless fun among the alleys and along the shore. If he were ever bored, he has forgotten it.

The retired chief librarian has delved deep into his memories in writing The Shore and Roond Aboot and what he has found is a wealth of detail of wartime Orkney and how people coped, of feared and respected teachers, of characters from the past and outrageous pranks he and his contemporaries played.

So complete are his descriptions that the smells associated with them seem to lift off the pages, none more so than his recollection of the aromatic wartime air raid shelters when the population of Orkney had been increased many-fold with servicemen and the public conveniences remained somewhat limited.

After reading this book, Kiln Corner will for me be forever associated with the 16 to 20 seater loo with wooden seats suspended over a trench of running water. And the episode with the burning newspaper.

For the young, the war seems to have been more exciting than frightening. Far from running to the air raid shelters when the siren went off, it seems that many folk preferred to go outside and watch the searchlights and see the effects of the guns being fired at enemy aircraft.

Even for those of us who were at school elsewhere, his experiences there find an echo. The goods, the lines waiting to go in, milk monitors. It all comes flooding back.

He fails to mention whether the regular non-attenders got particularly dirty looks when they DID come back, having cost the class the banner that week. I suppose each class had them of course, so it probably balanced out in the end.

And those awful orange coloured, plain-nibbed pens which spattered ink blobs at the slightest excuse. The author recalls that it was the upstrokes that caused the problem.

Was he ever ink-monitor, I wonder, with the terrible responsibility of putting powder in the bottle and topping up with the correct amount of water? Filling those little inkwells took a steady hand.

Fun for the local reader will be in identifying those named only by their nicknames ­ Millo, Dwaddle, Orangie, Moosie and Sticky among them.

The author takes us back to meet shopkeepers of that era ­ Charlie Celli, Donnie Chalmers, Mr and Mrs Zanre, Louis Foubister at the Rocky Shop, the Nicholson family who had a bake shop down the lane at the Big Tree, Bella Gray, Bill Sutherland at WHB Sutherland¹s chemist shop where David was message boy, and where he was forgiven for dropping the bottle containing the monthly allocation of olive oil, and other disasters, and Jimmy Bews at William Shearer¹s shop who used to slip out his glass eye.

"Big bites o¹ fish and peedie bites o¹ tattie," was the advice given to Dave¹s grandmother-in-law when fish was plentiful and would not keep and potatoes had to last all winter.

We are assured that bread which got 'feesked' after a few days 'toasted lovely' if you scraped off the green.

A most helpful addition to the author¹s very personal account of his childhood, is the appendix showing who owned the various business premises in 1940 and what use is being made of them now.

This thoroughly enjoyable book which will bring back many memories of 60 years ago , comes out on November 13). It is published by The Orcadian Ltd (Kirkwall Press) at £13. 99p.