Hamish McShanks

Hamish McShanks Secret Diary – w/e 7^th August 2005

‘Ok lets see’, ‘I’ve got my kitbag, my sandwiches, my juice, suncream for ma baldy heid and of course my sunglasses’ I stroked the case before opening it reverentially. These glasses had been very expensive and a rare treat when I bought them five years ago. They were still pristine, the shiny pearlescent lenses glistened and shone ‘Oh my beauties’ I mumbled as I gently eased them out of the case. They received a thorough yet cautious buffing with the correct cloth before being delicately slipped on my face. A sad vain person might have looked in the mirror to reassure themselves, but I knew how cool I looked ‘Lets rock and roll’.

I fired up the engine, slipped on my driving cloves and fastened my seatbelt. ‘Mirror, signal, maneouvere’ Having checked my mirrors I made one last lifesaver glance for any cyclists before pulling out into the road. My time would have been better spent checking for oncoming vehicles as I nearly ploughed into a white transit van ‘Jeeesus fu-‘ Thankfully my brakes were in good working order. I raised an apologetic hand at the van driver. His signaled reposte was a tad more vigerous and a good deal less friendly. He wasn’t finished though, as he drove past he took the opportunity to point out that I had limited visual accuity and was a ‘fuuuckinwaaankaaaa’. Which while inciteful to the point of embarrasment, didn’t need to be bellowed out his window.

My second attempt at departure was thankfully less eventful and I toodled round to pick up my first passanger. We were off to play in a touch rugby tournament in Edinburgh and I was picking up four of the posse. First stop was for Ginge.

I pulled up outside her house and switched off the engine. I was about to exit the vehicle when she came out the front door. She was feverishly shoving cans of juice and sandwiches into her napsack as she jogged towards the car ‘Your early’ she exclaimed in a chastening voice ‘Aye well your always running lat-‘ I was cut off in mid sentence ‘Where on earth did you get those glasses’ she enquired supressing a giggle. ‘Why?’ I replied in an icy voice which wasn’t lost on her ‘oh no reason, no reason’ she replied hurridly ‘there lovely I thought Chris might like a pair’ she trailed off ‘You better get in or well be late’

I turned the radio on to prevent any further conversation on my beloved sunglasses. Next for pick up were Paulo, Chopper and Skippy. Fortunately they were only five minutes drive away and one song was sufficient to cover the akward silence. The three of them were waiting patiently at the side of the road as I pulled over. I stopped the engine and went out to open the boot. Chopper was holding the bags and I started transferring them into the boot ‘Alright Ham hows it goi-‘, ‘Jesus fuck where did you get those glasses?’ he roared and laughed. I froze with my hand on one bag.

By this point he had seen Ginge mugging furiously at him from the front seat, her hand was up by her throat making rapid horizontal gestures and she was firing a warning glance ‘Why?’, ‘Oh there just so …. Fantastic!’ he exclaimed ‘Oh aye they are the mutts nuts, no doubt, I’d love a pair’ Chopper is a bit of a radical dude so I gave him the benefit of the doubt ‘They’re good arnt they?’, ‘Oh aye magic magic, better be going handnt we?’ I stowed the last of the luggage and we set off.

There had been a fair bit of arguing over who was getting to ride ‘shotgun’ in the car. Ginge had won by playing her trump card of ‘I’ll vomit if I sit in the back’. I think you’ll agree that threatening to spew yer ringer in a confined space wins most arguments. Unfortunately she hadnt realised that this meant she was also the ‘navigator’. It might be worth mentioning at this point that Ginge doesn’t know her right from her left. No really I’m being 100% honest, she hasn’t a clue!

When were playing rugby we have to shout ‘ring’ or ‘no ring’ to let her know whether to pass left or right. Of course we tend to lose the momentum as she stops to look at her hands to see which one has her wedding ring. Were all shouting ‘it’s on your left hand Ginge, your left, YOUR LEF…. Oh forget it’.

I handed over my carefully written directions ‘Ok Ginge, your co-pilot’, ‘Bu-‘ I could see the look of panic on her face ‘Don’t worry you don’t have to decide which side is which, you just need to read out the directions’ She visibly relaxed ‘Anyway It’s only the last few miles I don’t know, so your ok for now’ she placed the paper on the dashboard ‘See if you can find anything on the radio will you’ She leaned over and squinted at it ‘there’s a couple of little buttons on here and some numbers?’, ‘That wasnt quite what I-‘, ‘Oh there’s a bit of pie stuck on the tape button ‘‘Noooo see if you can tune in a music station’

It wasn’t long before we were grooving on down to Queens of the Foofighter Audiodribble or some such modern keech. I just mubmled and la la la’d as the hip young kids in the car sang the ‘lyrics’. God knows what drivel constitutes music these days but they were havering on about peaches or something like that. I just hummed along and took refuge behind my sunglasses. I was so engrossed in my appreciation of their refractive qualities that I nearly missed our turn off. ‘Oh Shiii-‘ I yacked on the anchors and dived off the sliproad

‘Ok Ginge is it left or right at the roundabout?’ there was no answer and the sliproad was rapidly disappearing ‘Ginge?’ still no answer ‘GINGE!’, ‘Don’t rush me?’ she replied tersley ‘I’m reading’, ‘Aye well get yer mincers working luv wur running out of road!’ It was a pretty big roundabout hoving into view ‘Well?’, ‘ok we need 4 ounces of castor sugar and three eggwhites’ I looked at her incredulously ‘The other fecking side woman!’, ‘There’s no need to be snippy’. It was too late we were on the roundabout .

I had no choice but to keep circling until we knew which exit to take. Unfortunately after five or six laps I was feeling rather dizzy and worse still we were speeding up. We seemed to be in a decaying orbit and with mounting horror I could feel my glasses getting pulled from my face by the centrigugal force ‘Nooooooo’ I screamed as they shot off my face. ‘Left’ shouted Ginge and yanked the steering wheel. We exited onto the correct road as I watched my sunglasses (and dignity) fly out the drivers window and under the wheels on an oncoming lorry. ‘Ahahahaaaaaaaa’ I wept anguished tears as everyone became suddenly interested in the fine detail of the upholstery and the state of their fingernails anything other than the wailing man.

‘No sorry, it was Right’ ……. ‘Ahaaa haaaaaaaaaaaaa’

Doei