LIKE most people, I don't enjoy delays and become what I consider to be mildly annoyed by seemingly unnecessary stoppages during my various attempts to move from A to B in as quick a time as possible.

I have always thought of myself as quite a patient person, but recently I have realised this has never really been the case.

As a child I would volunteer to go to the fish and chip shop on a Friday lunchtime and despair at the size of the queue.

Years later I would become equally frustrated waiting to be served at a crowded bar.

I also started to experience irritation at people at checkouts who don't get their money ready until the cashier announces the cost, then spend ages searching for their purse. Didn't they know they would have to pay?

Then it was people at supermarket fruit and veg sections, gathering round in groups, staring at carrots as if they had never seen them before and discussing whether they need three or four. Here is some advice - make a list before you go out.

Traffic jams with no apparent reason became a particular pain throughout my 20s. Mostly though, I grew to accept that our road system was woefully inadequate and the Government did not want to make using public transport a more attractive proposition as it would hit the motor industry and damage the country's economy. While we are on the subject of roads, I also get tetchy with people who slow down when approaching traffic lights that are on green.

But recently I have discovered a worrying new trait that I appear to be demonstrating on a daily basis.

Since moving to Bolton, I have realised how fast I walk. So fast, in fact, that I believe I may be the quickest walker in town, which, in a smug way, gives me a good deal of satisfaction.

I know I walk fast because I have become hugely irritated by people walking too slowly. So much so that it is starting to adversely affect my behaviour.

Why do people insist on ambling along - usually in quadruple file just to make sure there is no way you can overtake them - at the pace of cramp-stricken buffalo?

Try to overtake them on the inside and as one they perform a crab-like sideways lurch to block you off. Attempt to brush past on the outside and you are likely to be sent sprawling by a well-aimed elbow to the ribs. "Kiss that concrete, fast walking-type."

Where are these people spending so much time not getting to? Why do they want to carry heavy bags of shopping around for so long? And why do they need to stop and talk in doorways and in the narrow aisles of shops?

I used to be able to keep my bad tempered musings to myself, but I fear the mixture of expletives and suggestions as to how people could better fill their time have recently become audible.

This means I now qualify as one of those people who unknowingly talks loudly to everyone within shouting distance, which is probably more annoying than walking slowly.