So tired, tired of waiting for you

At my age waiting in is dangerous. I mean at my age time's precious. But here I am stuck between the computer screen and the front door waiting on the delivery van from Majestic Wine. On current performance its progress is about as ponderous as a Royal Funeral March. (Which reminds me must leave London on Thursday).

I placed the order on line yesterday, they phoned me enquiring about convenient delivery times and we agreed on today between 10 am and noon. It is well past that now.

It's my own fault. The store is 10 mins away by car, I could have collected the stuff myself.

You see I panicked! We're having friends around on Sunday evening for "drinks and nibbles" (when I was young that was code for sexual intercourse - now it means what it says). I looked in the wine cellar and we were down to the last case of Château Lafite '96 and a few magnums of Le Pin '84.

So I'm stuck here waiting. And since it is Good Friday this is an opportunity to reflect on the meaning of life, and the important questions of living and love.

Can you have too much asparagus? At the moment this looms large in my viewfinder of life since our plot has decided to go into overdrive and is producing spears at the rate of Caesar's  armoury  at the  Battle of Bibracte.

Indeed the stench in our street from the sewers overflowing from asparagus wee is becoming a major health hazard. Combined with the London smog we're experiencing it's become a real pee souper. Neighbours are refusing to answer their doors as I tout around armfuls of free asparagus.

What was a joy, a complete stranger stopped me when she saw me carrying a bundle of the accursed stuff and spontaneously congratulated me on my good fortune, has turned into a curse. Like St Sebastian I'm  afflicted by the arrows (well, spears) of mine enemies.

By way of a detour I remember seeing Derek Jarman's "Sabastiane" when it came out in the  mid '70's. Now I am and have always been a fully signed up member of the permissive society (TWTWTW and Derek and Clive) and all that sort of thing, but Latin dialogue - one simply had no idea what profanities were creeping in. It was almost as bad as "Cyrano De Bergerac" with that lovely Gerard Depardieu having to speak a screen play by Anthony Burgess of all people! Actually I thought it was a clever twist on the Steve Martin original except it wasn't as funny.

The wine's arrived, and I'm off to Homebase to experience that frightening and unique trauma: the deadly combination of sun, DIY, gardening, BBQs and the English shopper stripped to a waist and ever so pale.

Wish me luck!