Sunday, August 27, 2006
Hamish McShanks Secret Diary - Part 98
Hamish McShanks Secret Diary w/e
‘The Roof?’, ‘uhu’, ‘you want me to get up on the roof?’, ‘yup’, ‘all the way up on to that high roof’, ‘yes’, ‘by means of this thin rickety ladder?’ my brother looked at me with mounting disdain ‘what’s the problem fatboy?’ my petted lip was sticking out as I mumbled ‘I thought I was putting the shelves up?’, ‘I’m doing that’, ‘why?’ Sighing he picked up the hammer and waved it below my nose ‘because you’re a complete DIY disaster area’, ‘I-‘, ‘because you’ve got all the manual dexterity of a pigs breast’, ‘bu-‘, ‘because you don’t know you’re arse from your elbow’, ‘look I-‘, ‘but mainly because cleaning moss off roof tiles is about all I’d trust you with!’ I gave up protesting. He had a strong argument no doubt about it.
To explain: My twin brother and I were at our mums for the weekend. It was her birthday and we were both vying for the accolade of ‘Golden Child’. I’m sure all families with more than one child will be familiar with the concept. Unlike the Olympics or the World Championships where your years of graft and dedication lead to a title which is guaranteed for at least four years the Golden Child tag is extremely short lived. Sometimes only lasting as long as the next cup of tea. Yet it is still highly regarded amongst most siblings and we were no exception. I like to think I play fair but my twin brother was making an extremely shallow and flagrant attempt to curry favour by cleaning out the shed and tarting it up with a few extra shelves.
The shed which of course my mother uses on a daily basis. Therefore constantly reminding her about his good works and scoring heavily on the brownie points. Which was of course why I was so upset when the sly bastard beat me to it! Unfortunately this meant I was left the task of cleaning the moss off the roof. Ok so the roof is far more functionally important than the shed but is pretty much taken for granted. Let’s be honest when’s the last time you looked at your roof? Hmmm? Exactly! I’d been stitched up like a kipper and he knew it!
Unfortunately that wasn’t the biggest setback. The main reason I was so tetchy was my problem with ladders, or more specifically, falling from them. I don’t know what triggered this phobia; I’ve never actually fallen from one so I don’t know how I developed this trouser staining fear. But it’s there and it’s no fun. I’ve never been a fan of heights in any situation but ladders are my biggest fear. However in the quest for golden status I did think that perhaps this was the opportunity to get over it? Perhaps I could ‘grasp the nettle’ as they say ‘face my fears head on’ and and and ‘put one over on that bastard of a brother of mine!’
My optimism evaporated with every rung as I gingerly scaled the ladder. My head cleared the eves of the roof and I stared at the moss covered incline. It looked dark and foreboding. Great clumps of moss were perched at precarious angles on loose and flaking tiles. Thunder clouds were gathering at the apex of the roof and the occasional flash of lightening lit up the sky. From the ground it had looked like a fairly shallow pitch but close up it was like the North face of the Eiger. My
‘What’s the hold up?’ came the bellow from the bottom of the ladder ‘I’m just psyching myself up’ I replied weakly ‘what are ye going to clean the tiles using the power of your mind?’ he replied sarcastically ‘look I just need a couple of-‘, ‘get a shift on’ he shouted, shaking the ladder violently with both hands. I was up on the roof quicker than a mountain goat.
I lay shaking on the damp moss as a selection of cleaning tools were tossed up after me. Wire brushes and tile scrapers rained down as I cowered in shock, desperately wanting to shout some abuse at my brother. Unfortunately during the recent world breaking ascent my heart had left my stomach and was now resident in my mouth. All I could manage was to wheeze ‘fnnn baaastttrd’ and wave an inverse victory salute over the edge of the roof as my pulse slowed to a few hundred beats per minute.
My gestures went unheeded as the back stabbing Judas sidled off to simper beside my mum ‘would you like a nice cup of tea mumsy wumsy’, ‘oh I do like those shoes mummy’, ‘would you like a biscuit with your tea mum?’ Makes ye want to puke!
It took me six hours to clean all the moss off the roof and the whole time I was trying to avoid thinking about going back down the ladder. Unfortunately the job was now complete and I was going to have to descend or spend the rest of my life on the roof. A quick glance around revealed Spartan living conditions and little prospect of a vibrant social life. Therefore I plumped for the trouser filling descent instead. What the heck, they were full already.
I spent the next ten minutes ‘psyching myself up’ i.e. working myself into a fearful tizzy before I even approached the ladder. Bubbling clearly wasn’t working so I was going to have to call in the cavalry. After a deep breath I managed to compose myself enough to call out to my brother ‘alright bruv that’s me finished now, can ye hold the ladder for me please’ The sound of a hammer clanging was followed by a weary ‘och for Christ sakes can ye not manage yersel?’ My fragile composure cracked, time for full blown panic.
‘NOICANTBECAUSEI’MSHIIIITFUUUCKINGSCARED!!!!’
He sensed the anguish in my voice, it’s a twin thing.
To his credit he didn’t laugh, he didn’t mock at all. Even when I was unable to put a foot on the ladder and was frozen in terror. He slipped seamlessly into plan B. He just popped inside and pulled the mattress off the bed ‘Will one be enough?’ he enquired as I peered over the edge ‘Two please’ I replied with reddened eyes. He ventured back inside and returned with the mattress off the spare bed ‘anything else?’, ‘could you turn your back’
The only comment was when we were taking the mattresses back inside ‘cheers bruv’, ‘cheers who?’, ‘cheers ….. golden child’, ‘that’s the bunny’
Doei
