I picked up the last issue of Living Orkney on Thursday. Inside its cover were many familiar things. Some items do become familiar to the point of becoming invisible, like wellington boots marooned by the back door all summer until October when they are picked up again, like the smart woollen coat worn when it’s not raining at Hogmanay, like the best wooden spoon for pancake batter. Yet without these things how would things be?
From one season to the next Living Orkney has recorded events of local and national and given the importance of renewables in the future, of global significance. Its pages have been a place for artists to share their work, for stalwarts of voluntary and professional organisations to be honoured and recognised, for new and old businesses to share their endeavours. In its pages the past has been researched and remembered by a dedicated team of writers and contributors many giving their words without payment. In fact, could anyone assemble such diversity with the offer of only money?
Words and pictures have been thoughtfully arranged and set to appeal to the reader, whether visitor or local. It is a record of local interests, people and history, of times changing, of attitudes changing.
I cannot help think that Living Orkney is one of these essential familiar things that will be looked for in the future. And when it is not to hand it will be missed, and the record of life will be poorer.
So, it is only now I realise the privilege of contributing with other members of Stromness Writing Group to Living Orkney. It was a chance to create and share with the community, an opportunity provided nowhere else.
So this is farewell, another gone from the shore.