Ain't it hot out there?
I just went up the road to pay some bills and if it hadn't been for Mr Chilly I would have roasted alive in the traffic.
Robbed!! That's what I think of what happened in the England France game. We out-played them and defended brilliantly when they got near us and it all went pear-shaped by a lack of concentration. I think the Swiss and the Croatians will suffer because of it.
I went straight out to work after the final whistle and there wasn't a cab to be seen anywhere for the first hour. I took £50 in the first hour and finished up with a tidy little sum by 2.30am. Best job went £30 from the Nags Head to Lewisham Way, a great big Russian lady screaming into her telephone. From what I could gather, her suicidal friend in Oxford had finally slit her wrists after splitting with the boyfriend, and the Oxford Police were refusing to go round there (no mention of an ambulance for the poor cow) and the Russian was sick of being dragged into it etc etc. My opinion was asked for to which I replied what a mess the whole thing was and finally we arrived at Lewisham Way and I was able to put my radio on and escape into the ether again.
Oh I almost forgot. Friday night I had a "puker". The first one in this cab. I'm entitled to get a £40 cleaning fee off the passenger but they only had £20. I say passenger but I should say women. Why is it always women that get sick in cabs? If any of you are reading this and you go for a night out and are rat-arsed drunk and feel the need to vomit, then do the right thing and ask the cabby to pull over before you ruin his night and possibly his life!! Any way, I drove home and cleaned it all up with pine disinfectant and by Saturday morning the smell was practically gone. I went out early on Saturday so that by midnight I had all the money i needed. "One last job" says me. A nice young couple waiting by the bus stop outside Great Portland Street underground station flagged me down and asked to be taken to Warwick Avenue. Off I go thinking "that'll do me, I'll be home in 15 minutes". Just as we're passing Westminster Council House the guy say's "Could you pull over for a minute?" As I look round she's cupping her mouth and there's sick leaking from her fingers onto my recently cleaned upholstery. I couldn't help myself but I just exploded with "I don't fucking believe this, 2 in 24 hours!!" The guy could only apologise and offered to clean it up for me but I thought I'd do a better job of it myself. As it turned out it wasn't too bad and it cleaned up nicely but I'm just starting to wonder if the cab is jinxed. I've had more grief with this cab in one year than in all the other cabs put together over 13 years. It really is all in a day's work.