Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary w/e 31^st October 2004

‘And this is the bathroom’ I stepped in to the room and was immediately dazzled by the reflection from the glimmering tiles. The room was filled with an intoxicating fragrance emanating from the scented candles surrounding a whirlpool spa bath the size of a small car. The bath was clearly supposed to be the ‘centrepiece’ of the room but for me the jewel in the crown was the shower.

A large tiled cubicle with four thick chrome pipes running down each wall. Twelve in total with hundreds of small holes perforating each pipe I followed the tubes to their nesting point and began to drool. It was the stuff of dreams, a Satellite Pro 9000 power unit ‘Mwuuaaaaoh mama’ I quivered. This bunny would send out 20 gallons of a second at 100 psi. There’s no need for soap with this baby (some savlon and a large bandage perhaps) It’s not removing the dirt that’s the problem it’s letting your skin grow back before you can use it again. And I like a powerful shower …..

The rest of the house was also perfect, an enormous kitchen with a cooker the Savoy would have been proud of. You could have rustled up a four course meal for two hundred on this thing (And I love cooking) All the bedrooms were spacious and beautifully decorated with ample storage and huge mirrored wardrobes. This was the house for me, no doubt about it, it’s too good to be true ……

I should point out I’ve never bought a house before, I’m a property virgin, I’m really quite naïve and gullible …… and it was dark

I had ‘just’ enough sense not to offer on the spot, thought I’d do a bit of research first. I spent a morning on the web looking at crime statistics for the area, phoned the council to see if there were any neighbours from hell, any outstanding ASBO’s that sort of thing. What were property prices like? how many houses had been sold in that area this year? I talked to people at work, I asked around – I was quite proud of myself, look at me being grown up and sensible …..

I even drove round again and had a look in daylight, hmmm okay so it’s not the nicest neighbourhood in the world (think shiny shower) but it’s ok (think shiny shower) probably on the up (shiny shower, shiny shower SHINY SHOWEEEEEER!!!!!!!!!) The voice in my head won the day and I set about putting in a formal offer. As a final check I though I’d talk to the local policeman to see what he thought of the area I was intending to move to ……….

‘Worst street in the toon’, ‘Whaaa’, ‘Nightmare for kids getting pished falling aboot and throwing stuff at yer windaes’, ‘Buuu’, ‘Aye I wudnay stay there, ye’d be better off living in a hollowed oot shite under a railway bridge’ My stomach was tightening as my sphincter was loosening ‘Thanks very much …. ’ I mumbled as I staggered out of the station and back to my car.

I sat at the wheel with my head in my hands and began to bubble, 20 minutes passed and the footwell was in danger of flooding (I was coping well) I tried to pick myself up with a stern talking to ‘Pull yourself together man’ and by giving myself a couple of good slaps in the face. The policeman sitting at the front desk gave me a rather quizzical look whilst I beat myself up but I suppose he thought I wouldn’t press charges against myself and went back to his crossword.

Sadly I didn’t have time to wallow in self pity (plenty of time for that when I’m hanging myself in my shiny new shower) I had to go to another viewing in the same estate. I started up the car and crawled towards my ‘new home’.

Now that my rose tinted glasses had been brutally kicked off my face I could smell the coffee (apologies for the mixed metaphors, I was in shock) I could see the place for what it really was, Baghdad on a Saturday night. The mystic powers of the shower dispelled I could now see the boarded up house round the corner. I could see the dismantled car in the driveway and the crumpled Burberry cap blowing down the street ‘Dear god what was I thinking’

But every cloud has a silver lining and my strata of silver was the solicitor being out of the office that afternoon. Oh deep joy! Thank god for ‘working lunches’ down the bookies. I managed to bail out before he put in an offer but the whole experience left me feeling rather dirty and used. My housing cherry was still intact (just) but I had most definitely been in a ‘knickers round the ankles’ scenario. The only thing missing was the empty bottle of diamond white nestling atop a used rubber johnny and the distant slamming of the back door as my ‘beau’ exits stage left with my CD collection baaaaastard!

This near miss has made me a tad more cynical when I view a property and I have to admit perhaps a smidgen over cautious or hypersensitive. On Sunday for instance I viewed a two bed roomed terraced house in quite a nice part of town. I ‘may’ have been carrying some baggage from the shower incident ……

‘So this is the lounge’, ‘Uhuu’ I gave the room a derisory glance and went back to examining my fingernails ‘Gas central heating and new double glazing throughout’, ‘Mmm’ I grunted. The owner was a little taken aback by my reticence but he ploughed ahead anyway ‘and if we go through here you can see the bathroo…’, ‘AHAAA!!’ ‘sorry?’, ‘Oh you think you can snare me with a lovely shower do you?, ‘Wha…’, ‘Think I’ll roll over for a pine toilet seat cover and matching loo roll holder do you?’, ‘I …’, ‘Think I’m easy do you? Think I’m a sluuuut!’, ‘Well your wrong, WRONG do you hear! I’m not that easy, I’m a LADY!!!!’ This clearly confused him ‘but your 6 foot tall and bald as a snooker ball’, ‘Oh oh oh so it’s just the surface that matters is it yooooooo baaaaastard!’

He was stumbling backwards as I continued my tirade prodding him in the chest and ranting about emancipation and freeing myself from the shackles of man…….

I will admit I over reacted, I will admit I could have handled the situation better, I will admit that there was no need to scream chauvinist baaaastards ‘all’ the way to the police station but I still think an ASBO was a bit much (at least I know who else has one now)

Doei