Re-light my fire

Last week, having been in receipt of my first-ever supermarket home-delivery I was feeling a bit like - to use the 1970s playground vernacular - a big girl's blouse ('emasculated' if you went to the grammar school). Anyway, my hunter-gatherer instincts had been lain to waste and I'd need to take drastic action to recover them.

And so it was, I decided to forage for firewood. OK, it would really be more a question of pootling up the road a bit to find some sticks and twigs in order to get the fire going, given that the logs themselves had also been delivered directly to my door by a man more manly than me.

Anyway, I stuck to my plan and strode forth gamely, simultaneously eyeing the roadside like a hawk for any suitable bits of wood. After about 20 minutes, my eyes fell upon what might only be described as a veritable treasure trove of goodies. It was as if the gods of firewood themselves had descended from the heavens in order to lay the perfect pile of kindling before my grateful gaze. Unfortunately, not being a hunter-gatherer of any great heft, I hadn't brought a carrier bag with me and would have to either go home to get one (no chance - I'm not a machine) or just make do with whatever meagre spoils I could clutch in my trusty mitts.

As I was pondering my limited options, Antonio appeared over the horizon, hands in pockets, purposeful gait. Antonio is like the village guardian angel; he turns up in miraculous fashion whenever you might need him, carrying whatever you might need. He approached bearing his customary beaming grin.

"Out for some kindling, eh, Pedro?"

"Er, yes, but there's too much to carry. I'll have to come back." (I had no intention of coming back).

Antonio reached into his coat pocket - I knew it! He'd give me a carrier bag from his miraculous supply and all would be well. Except it wasn't a bag at all, rather a long length of twine that had clearly seen better days. There followed a sudden blur of activity until, as is if by magic, all of the wood had been collected into one, neat bundle, tied up with twine bearing a knot so perfect as to make Lord Baden-Powell green with envy.

"There you go, Pedro!"

Embarrassingly, I wasn't really sure how best to carry my spoils and flailed around accordingly. Antonio smiled the smile of a man trying desperately not to laugh, and lifted the bundle onto my shoulder.

"Swap shoulders when you get tired."

"Thank you very much, Antonio. Oh, by the way, why have you got a length of twine in your coat pocket?"

"For the asparagus, obviously."

Obviously. I toddled home to choose something to eat from what the supermarket home delivery man had brought, feeling more emasculated than ever, almost certainly muttering 'You big girl's blouse' under my breath (I went to the local comprehensive).

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