Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary w/e 21^st November 2004

Tap tap tap ‘Oh for fu….’ tap tap tap ‘Patience Ham, patience’ tap tap tap ta-clunk ‘Ha ha ya baaas that should be enough ’ I picked up the piece of ice and jammed it in the kettle, it took a bit of encouragement and a couple of good thumps but I eventually managed to get the top back on. ‘Nothing like a nice cup of tea to warm the old cockles’ I reached across to flick the switch and everything went black……

When I came round I was lying on the floor ‘Oh ma heid’ it would appear that electricity and damp do not mix. I was however ‘slightly’ warmer due to my enforced but uncontrolled bladder movement. I don’t want to appear ungrateful but I would prefer to have raised my core temperature with a cup of tea. I shuffled off to the bedroom to change my trousers before they froze completely and the chaffing became unbearable.

Changed and dried I returned to the kitchen. I’m not the kind of person who likes to be beaten, which is a tad unfortunate as it happens to me most weeks. However this time I thought the problem through and smuggly donned my rubber marigolds. I sauntered up to the kettle ‘Think your smart do you Mr Electricity, think you can outwit old Ham!’, ‘‘Haa well I’m damm well having a cup of tea’ I stretched out a rubber cased finger ‘You’ll have to get up pretty early tognnfmmmmaaahhh…’

Luckily my bladder was still fairly empty and it was only an underwear change required this time. Note to self : Examine marigolds for holes before using as safety gloves. Undeterred I returned to the Kitchen. This time I got a stick. A wooden stick (I’m not getting caught out like that again) I approched cautiously and levered the plug out of it’s charred socket. It did take me about twenty minutes, and another stick, to get it into the new socket (just think chopsticks and King Prawn) but I eventually managed to fire up the kettle without further soiling of my shreddies.

My self satisfied grin did not last however, in fact it evaporated at about the same rate as the water. Turns out a Kettle full of ice produces about 15 milliliters of water. Which coincidently is just enough to produce a taunting plume of fine steam before the kettle in question shakes violently and expires in a shower of white hot plastic shards. The shaking was quite mesmorising and I was staring slack jawed as my kettle commited hari-kiri. Luckily my body had the presence of mind to cower behind the fridge door. I don’t think my ‘Ariston’ will be going ‘on and on and on’ anymore…

Winter is upon us it would seem and it bloody well snuck up! Went to bed Thursday night and the portents were fine, no sign of polar bears on the horizon, no hint of my car being crushed by pack ice. I woke up Friday morning to find everything frozen solid. They have been warning of the coldest winter since nineteen oatcake, looks like they may be right.

The cold weather has not put my house hunting on hold though and I viewed another property this weekend. First impression was a bit of a dissapointment I have to say. ‘Two bedroomed terraced house in a popular residential area’. Hmmmm popular with racing drivers it would seem. The house was on a very busy very long very straight piece of road. It took me twenty minutes to cross the street, I had to wait until the marshalls were waving their yellow flags.

I knocked on the door and waited patiently as the safety car roared by with it’s lights blazing. ‘Ah you must be Mr Shanks’, ‘Yes that’s ri-vrooooom-ght’, ‘I’m Stan, Come in’, ‘Thanks very mu-vrooomm-ch’. ‘Bit of a busy road that’, ‘What’, ‘Bit of a busy road that’ I shouted ‘Oh it’s not bad’ he replied locking the door behind me and removing his foam ear plugs.

The inside of the house was interesting. The first bedroom can best be described as yellow. Not very descriptive I’ll agree. But that’s all I remember, because when I say it was yellow, I mean ALL of it was yellow. Walls, ceiling, carpet, furniture, the lot! I think I know what it must be like to live inside an egg now ‘Nice and bright isnt it’, ‘uum yes it’s uuum …Lovely’ I had to get out before I started clucking.

The rest of the house must have been designed by that famous disk jocky M.C. Escher. I’m sure I went up about seven flights of stairs but we kept reappearing in the ‘yellow’ room. My host seemed entirely unperturbed that we only seemed to viewing the one room ‘Nice and bright isnt it’ for the seventeenth time was a bridge too far for me though and I made a bid for freedom. ‘Look an Emu’ I shouted whilst pointing in the opposite direction. As he turned I made a dive for the window. Sadly double glazing is quite tough and my effort was a bit half hearted so all I suceeded in doing was ricocheting off the window into a yellow wardrobe and crumpling onto the floor in a quivering heap.

‘The Emu seems to have gone now Mr Shanks’ he turned to see my prone figure on the floor ‘Oh did you fall down Mr Shanks? Dear oh dear’ he picked me up and dusted me down. I was getting very nervous, he seemed entirely unperturbed at my attempted escape. Almost as if this sort of thing happened all the time. We went up the stairs one more time and sure enough we arrived back in the yellow room. I was desperately holding back the tears as I asked ‘Your Mother doesn’t sit on a rocking chair by an Attic room window does she?’

His face broke into a huge grin and he started to laugh like a drain ‘Ooooh no Mr Shanks ha ha ha haaaa’ he was bent over holding his sides and weeping with laughter ‘she’s in the basement stuffed with old newspaper’ This time quadruple glazing wouldn’t have stopped me. I was through the window like a polaris missile and sprinting to the car. My fingers felt like sausages as I tried to sort out my keys and unlock the door. I glanced over my shoulder to see ‘Stan’ coming out the front door clutching armfuls of newspaper. If he got much closer I was in danger of producing some ‘solid fuel’ heating in my trouser department. A surge of relief poured over me as the engine burst into life and I tore down the road like a bat out of hell.

I don’t think I’ll be having a second viewing of that one. Don’t fret though I’ve still got an appointment to see a three bedroomed semi tomorrow. Now what’s the vendors name again. Oh yes Mr J. Dahmer ……….

Good night and remember ….. don’t have nightmares …..

Doei

# posted by Ham Shanks @ 11:18 pm