It’s been a strange and multifaceted week.
We learnt that a central figure in our community had died unexpectedly. He’d not long retired. I was chatting with him a while back about not working and he told me how much he was loving the freedom and spontaneity that retirement brings. Now he’s gone.
Ross Boston and his wife Pauline have had a huge impact on our little town. Back in the early 90s they set up the Green Shop to sell organic produce carefully sourced and lovingly displayed. This wonderful shop on Bridge Street not only encouraged other retailers to enter into the indie retail vibe on the street, it had a major impact on the town.
Visitors came specially to visit this ethical cornucopia to buy organic clothes, bread, veg, make-up, cleaning products and much more. Under Ross and Pauline, this wasn’t just a business, it was a hub, integral to the beating heart of a caring community: an informed navigator of the complex retail world which offered integrity, passion and perseverance. Through Covid and all the lockdowns the Green Shop was a practical and plucky life raft to me and many others - often our only contact with the outside world.
And, my goodness, keeping an independent retail business running in any location, let alone a small northern town, for 30 years is a triumph.
I’m a relative newcomer (just 14 years) to the town and don’t know the half of what Ross and his family have lived through and achieved. What I do know is that I feel adrift at this sad news. And I’m not alone, the expressions of sorrow and loss are widespread and heartfelt.
I am glad Ross lived to see his and Pauline’s green legacy picked up and continued by new and dedicated shop owners. He and Pauline waited a long time for the right people to take on the business. I am heartbroken for them that they did not have more time to enjoy retirement together.
Berwick’s iconic Green Shop
The Husband is away and on Sunday evening, after an intense day in the garden trying to beautify it for Open Gardens (coming up on Sunday 30 June), I took myself for a wee glass of wine. My drinking companion was a fabulous new book by locally based writer and artist Anna Chapman Parker.
I’d been lucky enough to attend the launch for the book earlier in the week in Edinburgh at indie bookshop Golden Hare Books. This celebration of Anna’s achievement brought a supportive slice of Berwick to Edinburgh to unite with family and friends in a warm hug of an event.
At Golden Hare with Anna and Understorey
Understorey blends spontaneity and deep reflection: the cramming of sketching and writing into the time cracks available when you’re a mother of young children; with a crafted meditative response to the natural life of the margins; and a consideration of the connections we make when we look, really look, beyond.
However, thinking that I’d do even the first pages justice on a warm Sunday evening at Coxon & Coxon Wine Rooms was not just a misplaced notion, it was self-delusion. And I kind of knew that when I shut my front door. Having spent a pretty solitary Saturday and Sunday, I think I was looking for a little chat and laughter. I found it in abundance: from the young ’uns manning the wine rooms and from other familiar faces that pulled me into their circle and gave me the interractions I craved.
My homage to Anna’s Understorey a photo of what I think is Shepherd’s Purse growing from a crevice by the pillars framing my front door. Once, I might have pulled it up but I’ve enjoyed watching its steady, wiry progress every time I leave the house and return. And in photo two, those lovely young ’uns who kindly enlivened my glass of wine but distracted me from reading.
When I was a slip of a girl, I fled the confines of small town living to London. Desperate to escape a home where everyone knew me and my family and all we got up to (or so it seemed to me). I craved anonymity and the exciting possibilities it brings.
Forty years later, I have come full circle to another small town (albeit at the other end of the country). A place where support and connection come readily and easily. A place where volunteering is a strength and an honour - and often the only way to get things done. A place which has welcomed us and which I’m proud to call home.
Till next time
Down the garden path. Starting the walk is the first step to finding out where you’re going. In this case, to our pond.
When I first arrived in the area I stumbled across the Green Shop and immediately realised I had made a great choice moving here! All the above resonates with me Jackie - thank you for writing so beautifully.
You write from the heart and so eloquently Jackie, we too love the warm hug from this little town. Your words brought tears to my eyes. A beautiful tribute to Ross.