I've had a couple of days off and have been busy watching the rest of Season 2 of Lost (Yeah I know, sad or what?). But now that mental block is out of the way I can get back to other things.
I started at 18.45 Sunday night and got my first job in....you guessed it Maida Vale. It's a public holiday here tomorrow or later on today and according to the calendar it's to celebrate Pentecost or Whitsun which is the seventh Sunday after Easter, commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples and the birth of the Christian Church. Anyhow, it felt like a Friday or Saturday night and there were lots of clubbers out and about. I'm doing a couple of evenings but intend to be back out during the day from Tuesday.
I picked up an Irish couple. Both of them were half cut, They wanted O'Neills in Wardour Street. They must have kissed the Blarney Stone at some point in their lives because they sure could talk. Incidentally it's something I would like to do too before I meet my maker. When we got there they wanted me to park up and come in for a drink with them but I gracefully declined their offer. He gave me a fifty pound note for the 9.20 fare and told me to keep the change. When I thanked him profusely he realised he had worded it wrong and said "sorry, I meant keep the coins and give me the notes" I knew it was too good to be true. There was a long queue at O'Neills and his partner suggested going somewhere else but he said he knew someone on the door and they'd get in no problem. As I sat there putting the money away I watched him go up to the doorman and say a few words to him. The doorman shook his head and they ended up joining the queue with the twenty odd other people.
It must have been gay night tonight because the best part of my fares were all to or from gay clubs. Fabric is a club next to the Smithfields Meat Market and I went there no less than four times. I would rather have a cab full of gay men than a cab full of drunk straight men anyday because they know how to behave themselves and the conversation is always more interesting, I also got my best tips from them.
Last Thursday I did a job up to Walthamstow in north London and feeling peckish got myself a Donner Kebab from a place in Hoe Street. Within an hour of eating it my guts were churning so bad I had to go home. The meat must have been rotten or something. I must remember to stick to my regular eateries.