A man with a mission ... Episode 1

I wake up and have a shit, shave and shower ... and realising that I woke up too early ... a wank too. I drink my morning tea, pack my bags and phone Mark Morrison with the good news that I'm ready to roll.

Mark answers his phone with the unquestionable grogginess that accompanies the terminal diabetic who spent the previous evening imbibing. This is at 8:45am and we're due to leave at 10am ... so all's good. Mark assures me that he needs "half an hour to surface".

I go for one of the best bargain breakfasts in Melville ... the 'uitsmijter' (the bouncer) at Die Agterplaas (literally translated, The Backyard) an exellent guest house across the road from me. The uitsmijter consists of an egg and ham and cheese on bread. With bottomless tea or coffee it will set you back R24. Cheap in any one's budget and you'll make new friends.

Be that as it may, 10am is approaching and at 9:45, I phone Mark to enquire where he is at. The oblique response is that he'll be "there in a half-an-hour ... or so." I neglect to enquire what 'or so' could possibly signify and regret it soon enough.

At 10:15 I can be observed sitting at my gate with my mother's "wheels"and my personal baggage ... going nowhere.

At 10:45, I can be observed in the same position, except that I'm now building up a head of steam about Mark being late, while simultaneously building up a dread of despair that he might have committed himself to a diabetic coma, because I phone repeatedly and there's no reply.

By 11am I'm considering dailling the emergency services, because Mark is still not answering his phone, I'm out of smokes and my over-used phone is out of battery power...

I just get my phone on a charger when Mark phones me to say that he is on his way.

In reply, I point out, in a rather pointed fashion, that there is a distinct difference between half-an-hour-or-so and an hour-and-half-and-more.

Mark retorts tersely that he had problems of his own and promises to apologise ONCE for his tardiness, because he had problems of his own.

I'm a man of great compassion, so I only inform him about the importance of punctuality for about 15 minutes into our trip until he points out, in a rather pointed fashion, that I should rather have a beer.

I take his advice, seeing that the whole conversation turned pointless anyway ... we're on holiday and while Mark is negotiating the midday traffic, I drink a beer and point out to him that we could have avoided it, if we left at 10am as planned...

Mark responds by turning the music up...

TO BE CONTINUED>>