Stromness

Recently I had the joy of being back in Orkney. The islands that make up the Orkneys are to the north-east of the mainland of Scotland: they are, if you like, in the top right hand corner of the country. Mainland Orkney is made up of long, low hills; a seemingly endless series of bays and inlets, and rich agricultural land teeming with birdlife and song. Dig a hole in Orkney and it would seem all but certain you'd find Viking treasure: nowhere in western Europe is so littered with archaeological treasures. And in the high summer the sun only dips below the western horizon for an hour or so before beginning to climb once more in the start of a new day.

But I went back to Stromness. The main street of mainland Orkney's second biggest town is a higgledy-piggledy winding of grey houses and slabs. There is a whole book waiting to be made out of it: little alleyways that lead down to glimpses of the sea; adverts in windows for old sails and boats; tangerine cats stretched in the sunlight; aged houses filled with stories of shipwrecks and mermaids. It was at the end of this street that the great Orkney writer George Mackay Brown lived. He always said that he never needed to travel: he had everything he needed in Orkney, and it was as though he ploughed the very soil for the poems, stories, novels and plays that poured from his pen.

It's in the middle of this street you'll find Tam's bookshop. It's the smallest bookshop I've ever known; and the most exciting. Here is to be found everything concerned with northern-ness: novels about the Faroe Islands, histories of Greenland, diaries from Iceland, the story of the discovery of Jan Mayen. Tam was married to the late great Gunnie Moberg; a fabulous Swedish photographer who worked with George Mackay Brown, melding her images with his words. Both are worth finding and discovering. And if you happen to land up in Orkney, promise me you'll wander down the main street of Stromness and spend a good hour with the treasure trove of Tam's bookshop.