My parents are wonderful people with admirable strengths but punctuality is not one of them.

Whenever I make plans to meet them anywhere, I can guarantee that I'll be hanging around for at least half-an-hour after the agreed rendezvous time.

Often it hasn't really mattered and I haven't shown my anger.

They were late picking me up on the morning of my wedding but we arrived at the register office with at least 30 seconds to spare.

They were late for our daughter Eve's third birthday party, which caused us concern as my mum had made the birthday cake.

We were about to nip out for a ready-made one, when she burst through the door, chocolate fingers and candles flying, to great and grateful applause.

Last weekend they were late again but I finally blew my top.

We had arranged to meet at noon at Michelham Priory for a picnic and an afternoon of medieval entertainment.

The weather was glorious, the event was splendidly colourful with tents and jesters and Morris dancers. And I was looking forward some enjoyable hours with the people I love the most.

I'd had a hectic morning organising sandwiches and appropriate clothing for Eve and her toddling brother, Max, but I arrived at the Priory just after noon.

I headed for the tea rooms, our rendezvous point, and was not surprised to find they weren't there.

No matter, I thought. A small crowd had gathered nearby around a storyteller, so I encouraged Eve to listen to his tales while I kept an eye out for my parents.

Thirty minutes passed, by which time both Eve and Max had become ravenous and polished off all their sandwiches.

The storyteller then finished but his spot was soon filled by a jester, who amused Eve but frightened Max.

I had to pace up and down with my screaming son at a distance that was near enough for Eve to still see me but far enough away so that Max's noise didn't put the performer off his juggling tricks.

Another 30 minutes passed and still no sign of my folks. By now I was also ravenous and so I polished off my sandwiches too.

"When are grandma and grandad going to get here?" sighed Eve, kicking around in the gravel. "I'm really bored now. Can we go and look at something else?"

I looked at my watch, which now said 1.30pm "We'll give them a couple more minutes ..."

"GRANDMA!" shouted Eve suddenly as she saw the figure of my mother walking briskly up the path towards us, followed by my dad at a more leisurely stroll.

"The problems we've had getting here ..." began my mum.

"I don't want to hear excuses," I said angrily, which surprised them almost as much as I surprised myself.

"We got stuck in traffic ..." began my dad.

"That's what you always say," I blurted. "I had to drive 20 miles on country roads to get here AND sort out two children this morning."

"Don't nag us," pleaded my mum. "Don't be angry with us," pleaded my dad.

"Humph!" I said, feeling pleased that I had finally said my piece on this issue.

When I later told my husband about the events of the day, he was supportive. "It was about time you said something," he said. "Well done. Can you now have a go at my parents for always being half an hour early?"

I shook my head. "Ah-ah. That's your Rubicon."