Missing man upsets routine

I LIKE me drive to work. It’s long enough to be a commute, but not so long that it turns into a journey.

In short, it’s a habit or routine; the more I repeat it, the more an increasingly predictable pattern emerges.

To quote some eggheed psychologists “Habitual behaviour is a form of automatic and routine behaviour. It is behaviour that people repeat, because this behaviour is easy, comfortable or rewarding.”

They’re not wrong, Pets – we humans really are creatures of habit and routine.

Just as it takes us 20 years or more to develop our adult personalities, we’re also developing behaviours and habits that will stay with us for a lifetime.

This is true right down to the small stuff.

For example, I generally drink the same make of tea (lush local nectar – delivered in a yellow van!) out of the same slightly wonky Union Jack mug me boys bought me for Father’s Day, at the same time of day (10.45), sitting in the same seat (near the window so I can radgie people watch), whilst reading the same paper (The Chronicle obviously), shaking me head and muttering ‘Givowwer’ at the same annoying wassocks (any D-list TV or sports nonentity and out-of-touch politicians).

To return to me drive to work, what really makes it so comforting is the fact that my little commuter habit somehow dovetails seamlessly with the rituals of others.

We all end up being players in each other’s shared routines; making guest appearances in a bigger pattern.

These characters, although often complete strangers, become a strangely familiar part of my morning routine. I even begin to give them my own names, eventually constructing personalities and back stories for them. So when I pass the traffic lights at around 8.15, I expect to see cooncil-troosers-cage-fighter man waiting for his pick-up. In his high-vis vest and coveralls he looks like he’s been a bit handy in his youth. Alas, in middle age he’s put the beef on and lost his a bit of his mojo – in a similar way to faded eighties icons such as Mickey Rourke or Val Kilmer. Nevertheless, via my weekly drive-by, I decide I like him. He has a kindly face, lined by life’s many lessons; not the features of workie ticket who’d start a Barney, but more the sort who’s capable of finishing one if pushed.

His absence disturbs me more than I thought it would. Wherever you are, mate, I hope it’s okay

Rain or shine he cheerily rests his paper on a green GPO telephone junction box, puffs on his tab, and awaits a lift I’ve never, ever witnessed him catch.

Alarmingly, his absence over the past few weeks has genuinely caused concern. It’s knackered the harmony of my routine.

Like trying to sing along to your favourite track with random bits cut out.

If I pass him coming oot the shop I know I’m early. If he’s gone, I need to get a move on.

His absence disturbs me more than I thought it would.

Wherever you are, mate, I hope it’s okay. We of the Mike’s morning run crew really miss you.

In contrast, as I approach work I often have to stop (whether I like it or not) at least once a week for the Bargain-shop Beckhams.

Yes, like clockwork, pushy moo and her himbo partner reverse aggressively into the road in a flashy car that’s sadly not as flash as the one they are driving in their heads.

Both have faces like smacked backsides – her lips pursed and his in a sneer. He wears a ‘cutting edge’ smurf hat (even in a heatwave) with a neck with more tattoos than Edinburgh Castle.

Meanwhile, she sports a ‘I’d like to speak to the manager’ hairstyle to complement her primarni power dressing.

Letting them out evokes as much thanks as hosting a 1973 FA cup commemoration evening in The Strawberry.

‘Thank you’ clearly is for losers ... However, the best biggest dint the the Bargain-shop Beckhams did to my morning ritual wasn’t to disappear without warning. No. They had the cheek to turn up at one of my gigs that I did in their area and have the audacity to be really canny people (albeit ones who still don’t say thank you when you let them out!).

Mike is appearing at ‘The other exhibition of the north’ comedy night on Saturday, September 22.