Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary –w/e 29^th May 2005

I fumbled at the drawstrings of the hood, my frozen hands groping clumsily for the elusive black cord ‘Feckin crappy jacket’ I grumbled as my sausage fingers finally got hold. The rain was battering down, raindrops ricocheting off the ground as I tried to protect as much of my face from the raging elements. Welcome to Perth Volleyball Tournament 2005. If only it was Perth Australia.

I’d enlisted the help of a gullible team member to help me put up the tents ‘Aye it’ll only take half an hour then we can head doon the pub’ Three hours after we started we were still wresting with the final tent. Two forlorn figures hunched over reams of billowing wet nylon ‘Look this pole go’s in that sleeve’, ‘it disnay’, ‘aye it does, ‘no it disnay’, ‘aye it fecking does’, ‘Ye cannay read ye baldy eedjit’, ‘hark at you with yer full head of skin!’ Things took a rather unseemly turn at this point but we managed to reach a compromise. I agreed to finish putting the tent up myself and Euan agreed that I could ‘go awa and lie in my ain pish’ whilst he went to the pub.

A rapidly growing storm of biblical proportions was threatening to engulf me so I decided to forego my attempts to read the extremely damp instructions. I shoved the nearest pole in the nearest sleeve. Five minutes later I hammered in the last peg unzipped the door and stepped inside ‘Oh’ …….. ‘hmmm’ My tent looked like something Picasso might have painted if he’s just popped a tab of acid.

I was towelling myself dry when Simon and Katy pulled up next to me ‘Bloody awful day isn’t it’ I shouted through a crack at the top of the window ‘Aye tell me aboot it’ replied Simon ‘I’ll just pop the tent up and we can go doon the pub’ I gave him the thumbs up and whispered ‘ye poor sod’ as the rain pelted off the windscreen. I was slipping a dry shirt on when I noticed Simon toss something quickly out the door.

I stared open mouthed as he pulled on a length of red cord which was attached to this mystery object. There was an explosive hiss and this black package erupted before my eyes, one second a suitcase sized parcel the next a fully erected tent with kitchen annex, en-suite toilet facilities, patio, decking and sunlounge all with commanding views over the rolling Perthshire countryside!

‘What the fu-‘, ‘No bad eh?’ he shouted through the window, holding his thumb up and mugging happily. I turned away to hide my sour face. I thought it would be churlish of me to wave two fingers at him and shout ‘that’s not real camping ye poooooof’ quickly supplanting my green with envy face with my burst a blood vessel angry red one. Instead I confined myself to a grumble whilst pulling on a dry pair of jeans and muttered ‘Bloody fancy dan with his la de da inflatable fecking tent’ The final turd in the pillowcase was realising that the rain had stopped just as I’d got dry.

I stepped out of the car and into a puddle of water nearly a foot deep. The cold water rushing into my shoes and soaking the fresh pair of socks I’d just put on ‘Great’. ‘Luvlee day isn’t it’ shouted Simon as he flipped open a deckchair and sparked up his gas barbeque ‘Yes isn’t it’ I replied through gritted teeth.

I unpacked the rest of my camping gear and put it in the tent. My rollmat had seen better days and was about as thin as a rizzla paper. Compared to my sleeping bag it was in pretty good shape. The bag was fifteen years old and now had a certain translucent quality about it. Although the faded label purported the contents to be ‘duck down’ I think this bird had most definitely flown the coop. There were a couple of lonely feathers gathered around the base but it was basically a glorified sheet.

‘Ach well it’s lasted no bad’ I muttered as I opened my sandwiches ‘Aaaw for fu-‘ the rain had got into my lunchbox and my sanees were now buried at sea. To add insult to injury the tantalising smell of grilled meat products was wafting from next door and my stomach was grumbling nosily ‘Be still my beauty’ I soothed whilst gently rubbing my belly.

‘Knock Knock’, ‘Anyone in?’ I pushed my head out of the tent to see Simon dressed in his Chefs whites an apron with ‘My Other BBQ is a George Foreman’ and clutching a set of fearsome looking tongs ‘Fancy a bite to eat Ham?’ he enquired. I was going to retort with ‘surely you forgot the hi-didilly-ho neighbour didn’t you?’ when he thrust a cold beer in my hand. My stomach growled to remind me not to look a gift horse in the mouth and I took the beer gratefully ‘Cheers Simon’. After all it was hardly his fault I was being a grumpy bawbag.

I have to say the quails eggs whilst not my normal starter were exquisite and how the man managed to cook a whole smoked chicken and a side of salmon on a barbeque was beyond me. The evening was looking up as we reclined on the deckchairs and sipped a number of chilled beers ‘s’reallygoodthis’ I mumbled through an alcoholic haze ‘would you like some dessert?’ my eyes started to fill up ‘dessert?yoovgotdessert!’, ‘Well we have a selection-‘, ‘yoor the besht Shimon, yoooooo n K.k.katy rrr the besht’, ‘Would you like the chocolate tort or the apple strudel? It’s homemade?’ It was all too much and I burst into tears before sliding off my chair.

Realising my evening was over they kindly poured me into my ‘cubist’ tent and placed me in the recovery position as I mumbled ‘yooorsooonice’ broke wind in Simons face and started snoring noisily.

It was five am when I awoke. Frozen to the core. My zero point five tog ‘sheet’ and wafer thin roll mat providing little protection against the chill of the night. My bladder was suggesting an imminent toilet trip wouldn’t be a bad idea either. I fumbled blindly with the zip and staggered out into the dawn. The toilet block was far too far away for my bladder to handle so I ducked behind the back of Katy and Simons tent.

I barely pulled the old fella out in time ‘Oh yeaaah’ I sighed with relief. I took a small step to my left to steady myself and trod on a discarded beer bottle ‘Woooaahhh’. Before you could say ‘on your back and covered in piss’ I was on my back and ….. well covered in piss

Thankfully there was no one about to see me adding a water feature to Katy and Simons canvas penthouse. Although I feel I can only have added to the value, if not the drainage.

Doei