TradeNames: Some 7 per cent of the city's population has crossed Nimble Fingers' threshold in Stillorgan, writes Rose Doyle

There's been no compromise over the years in Nimble Fingers, no deviating from the principle of toys as expression for children, of their interactive value, on how they work to build language, make connections.

The proof of this fundamental is proven in the figures. The 93sq m (1,000sq ft) of space in the Stillorgan, Co Dublin toyshop, a bulwark in the lives of a couple of generations at this stage has, its owner says, "the highest per sq ft sales of any toyshop in Europe".

A Lego survey of Dublin's toy trade came up with affirming figures, too, when it showed that 7 per cent of Dublin's population had crossed the Nimble Finger threshold.

Pat Staunton, for more than 40 years now, has observed how classic toys light up young faces, lift older hearts and open possibilities for everyone. Well disposed towards life himself, he loves selling toys. So do his sons, Ross and Gareth, the second generation gently moving in, making changes here and there.Nothing fundamental, of course.

Nimble Fingers opened in 1962 in an Ireland newly rediscovering the joy of crafts. It's owners were Robert and Hilda Tweedy.

"They sold knitting wools and crafts at first, then evolved into educational toys," Pat Staunton explains. "They sold a lot of wooden, basic educational toys and travelled the country visiting teacher conferences and play groups and the like. Everything grew from there. In those days you had to be vetted by Lego to sell their bricks, which were a big thing then."

The year 1966 - and the opening of Stillorgan Shopping Centre and Stillorgan Bowl - changed everything. What had been an area of small farm holdings, bee and hen keepers with the old Ormond cinema and Boland's pub at its centre, became immediately a burgeoning suburb.

"That was only 39 years ago," Pat Staunton shakes his head and looks across the road at today's crowded landscape. "I'd come to Dublin in 1961 from Westport, Co Mayo to do a BComm in UCD. I'd always been fascinated by toyshops, don't know why. I loved Gearys on St Stephen's Green. I remember getting a Hornby Dublo in 1948 too. It cost £5, a lot of money then."

The times and jobs being what they were, he headed for Toronto, Canada in 1968 to work for Macmillan Inc, selling books to universities. In time, he was transferred to Europe, covering an area "from Israel to Sweden. After a year living out of a suitcase I was exhausted. I came home to take charge of Macmillan Inc in Dublin."

His passion for toys had grown apace and by now he'd seen and knew that the "best toyshops in the world were in Germany".

Dublin was "doing badly" in the early 1970s when, in 1973, Pat Staunton married Jean. He stayed on another five years with Macmillan, then went out on his own as a publishers' agent. The Stauntons, and the first three of their four children, had become staunch Nimble Finger customers when, in 1982, the shop came for sale. A deal was done and Pat Staunton became the new owner in January 1983.

"The Tweedys were very ethical in their dealings and gave us great help throughout the sale," Pat Staunton says. "I bought the stock over 12 months. Jean worked here for a while but then went back to teaching. We kept contact with the Tweedys; Robert, sadly, died not long ago."

VAT, in Ireland in 1983, was at 35 per cent. Disposable income was at a minimum. Things were not easy for a new shopkeeper. In February 1983 Pat Staunton packed his bags and went to Nuremberg to the biggest toy fair in the world. "It covers 10 acres or more," he grins, "and I haven't missed one since."

He bought toys no one had seen in Ireland before. "I couldn't see any other way forward," he explains, "and having worked in Europe I saw Ireland moving forward too. The book side began to work too. I brought author Dick Bruna over from Holland and everyone loved him."

A visionary bank manager doubled the Nimble Finger overdraft by "a fortune" (from £15,000 to £30,000 and, for years, Pat Staunton worked in his shop from 8am to 6pm, had a relaxing pint on the way home, had dinner and time with the family before working until midnight on shop business.

In 1985, filled with the feeling that "things still weren't going anywhere" he read an article in which a Russian Jewish emigré businessman opined that there was no such thing as luck, only the reward which came with working seven days a week. Pat Staunton "took this as a sign", kept going and, in the autumn of that year, Nimble Fingers was featured in The Irish Times, then on the Late Late Toy Show. Queues lined up outside the shop. "It's been non-stop since then," he grins.

Staff are what has, always, "brought the shop forward", according to its owner. "We've had very committed people, teachers on breaks and such. We brought in toyshop people from Germany to work over the years too. June Persson was a manager here for 12 years and made a huge difference with her commitment to the place."

The toy business had changed over the decades, he says, "but not us. I resisted pressure to sell GameBoy and never did PlayStations, nor Barbie nor Cindy. I always believed customers could get those elsewhere. We did branch into the art area and that's a huge part of the business now. Fifteen years ago we went into outdoor games, slides, etc. That's a big end of things now too."

The secret of their success, he believes, lies in "hard work and sticking to what you're good at. We didn't open branches all over the place, deciding that one good shop would be it. We sell wooden train sets, wooden dolls' houses, baby walkers. Lego is bigger than ever here. I'm anti the-screen-as-toy because I believe in interaction between children, in them expressing themselves through toys and books. The mix of the two is important."

He laments the lack of "specialist shops of any kind, anywhere. We've boomed along with the economy in last few years. We don't open on Sundays and close at 6pm and we get away with it. I know it makes for difficulties when both parents are working but there's Saturday. I think things have gone mad with the 24-hour opening hour thing."

He loves to see "kids dragging their parents into the shop with that happy look on their faces! When they lose that we're gone."

But not for a long time yet to come. Children empathise with the size and space in Nimble Fingers, he believes, preferring smaller shops.

About three years ago Jean, feeling her husband should "ease up or retire", telephoned Ross (who was in New Zealand) and Gareth (in Barcelona) and told them the shop was going to be sold. They came home, "fairly smartly" their father says, moved into the business and have "added a lot and brought new life! I love my business, my job but I've eased back. The boys and I have arguments but they're never personal. I believe that when you hand over to your children they make mistakes but you have to let them. Though I do take them to the toy fairs."

Ross and Gareth are looking at a lot of things, at subtle changes. Father and sons lament the lack of space, say a move might be on the cards, but nearby if at all. "We're trying to move the business forward," Gareth says. "We've plans," Ross affirms.

Their father will be (a young) 62 next birthday. "I love the whole Christmas thing here," he admits, "the winter, people coming in with smiles on their faces. What they're buying are dreams."