Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary w/e 30^th Jan 2005

I glanced at my watch 17:07hrs ‘Feck two minutes till the bus’ the stop was thirty seconds from the front door but I was still rummaging around the bedroom for a second sock. I was in such a rush I’d even given up looking for a matching one anything would do ‘Bloody hell’ I bellowed as I fumbled in the back of another drawer ‘Is their a fecking sock devouring beast living in this house!’. I went through the dresser a third time, tossing clothes across the room. Time and patience were at a premium; I was about to blow a gasket.

I gave up with the drawers and expanded my search to the nooks and crannies behind the bedroom furniture ‘Is it too much to ask’ I enquired of the alarm clock. ‘Am I being unreasonable’ I screamed at the bedside lamp ‘A sock A sock, my kingdom for a bollocking, fecking sock, ANY sock!’ I roared angrily. One final lunge under the bed and I came up trumps ‘Ha haa…. oh….’ My elation was short lived and I dropped the offending item and it rattled on the floorboards ‘Ok any sock…… but that one’

Luckily I found a red hill walking sock wedged behind the bedside cabinet ‘Oh glory be, it’s a bleeding miracle, it’s a sock!’. I might even have made it to the bus if I’d not let my joy get the better of me. In my haste to put on the sock I made the schoolboy error of trying to multi task. I should have known better, after all I’m not a woman, what was I thinking of…..

But then again a woman would have probably had nine drawers of pristinely washed and ironed socks in the first place. No fevered rummaging for the girls, in fact the socks would almost certainly be stored in some sort of colour order, perhaps even by fabric. Whilst this kind of organisational skill has to be admired, let us not forget that most woman would still be late cos it would have taken them another forty five minutes to decide which fecking pair matched their handbag!

I digress, but only in the interest of parodying a chauvinistic stereotype of woman, so nae need to get yer dungarees in a twist sweetheart!

Anyway only being a man I made the slight mistake of trying to put the sock on and hop towards my shoes at the same time. Unfortunately the foot without a sock was attached to a leg that also seemed to have fallen out with the brain. I don’t know the history, maybe they just never got on, family can be like that. What would a leg and a brain have to talk about anyway? ‘Been up to much lately?’ enquires the leg. ‘Oh firing the odd synapse, carrying out a thousand tasks a second, you?’ Replies the brain ‘Mainly standing really’ …….. tumbleweed!

You can just see the brain glancing at it’s watch and praying for someone else to come into the room ‘Aaaah liver Liver, come and join us, how are you? dear god save me’. ‘Oh I’m fine fine, little bit of a hangover but-’, ‘Just go’ hisses the brain and they head off for some canapés as the leg just stands there looking at itself going ‘muscle contracts, muscle relaxes, muscle contracts, muscle relaxes’. But to fair steady reliability are the qualities you look for in a leg. No point in having a leg that has ideas above it’s station, that would be mayhem. Imagine your leg decided it wanted a ‘career break’ hmmm, what’s going to happen? Your on your backside arnt you, doesn’t bear thinking about.

Whatever the reason this particular leg certainly didn’t get the message that there was action going on at the foot end. As a result the errant limb tried to take a normal step. This combined with me pulling the sock violently upward meant inevitable conflict.

I would like to think my style marks would have been quite high. The degree of difficulty must have been at least 3.6. A forward roll with half pike, one and a half twists and a one point landing on the corner of the bedside cabinet. Shame the one point was my nose ‘Ooooohfu-‘ At least I managed to finish getting the sock on as I lay on the floor, blodd pouring out of my nose. I glanced at my watch, forty five seconds left. I could still make it! Pulling on my shoes I raced out the door. That was mistake number two, rushing again, I just didn’t plan ….

After about eight or nine steps I knew I should have tied my laces. The flappa flap flap noise was the first indication of trouble. ‘That’s ok’ I thought ‘I didn’t tie my laces’, ‘No problem, I cant possibly stand on the laces if I keep my momentum going’ Quite a reasonable premise I think you’ll agree. I even managed to formulate an ‘exit plan’. As long as I’m careful when I slow down and lengthen my strides I should be fine. Comfortable with my flawless logic I focused firmly ahead and kept pounding my legs.

My goal was in sight ‘Only one hundred yards to go’ I puffed. The bus was pulling up to the stop, there were people in the queue, and it would have to wait. Ha haaaaaaaaa I was going to make it!. Less than fifty yards to go and I started wheezing noisily. The heavy cold that had been brewing all week was starting to take its toll. My lungs were burning and snottery green mucus was running down my face.

Flappa flappa flappa flap.. .flap ….flap. Disturbingly the flappas were less frequent and reducing in volume, there was no doubt about it, I was starting to slow. ‘Oh feck’ I gritted my teeth and pumped my arms ‘Must keep going’ I wheezed ‘As long as I keep running I wont trip over mywooaaaaaaaaaaaaaoooommmpppffff! I just made out the tail lights of the bus pulling away before I succumbed to unconsciousness.

When I awoke some kindly youths had relieved me of my wayward footwear and also my mobile phone and jacket. Poor wee mites you cant blame them. It can’t be easy having the peer pressure to buy those expensive designer shell suits and Burberry caps. It’s a searing inditement of global inequity when TK max is out of your price range and a bottle of Buckie is over a fiver. The upcoming G8 summit in Gleneagles needs to address these burning issues. The bigwigs need to tackle these problems head on so the youth of tomorrow don’t have to resort to crime to feel part of society. And more importantly so I don’t have to walk home in my fecking stocking soles!

Given the attractive green sheen on my face and the deeply embedded pieces of tarmac I elected to give the team night out a miss, I would only have made a fool of myself …..

Doei