The photo of a disguised me in the last post was taken a couple of weeks ago at my parents house where we all gathered to celebrate my sister’s birthday. The mask belongs to my nephew and as some of you have gathered, it is a replica of the one worn by Rey Misterio, the WWE wrestler. That’s about as much of my face as I’m willing to reveal so you’ll have to use your imagination for the rest of me.
I stayed in to watch the Spurs match with my son so I never started work until 10pm.
London is absolutely heaving with work at the moment and it was “one in one out” everywhere.
3 incidents of note happened tonight. The first was when a couple got in at Knightsbridge and asked for Barons Keep in West Kensington. No sooner had I pulled off when the lady decided she needed to puke. She pulled down the window and stuck her head out and I could see it all spraying from her mouth through the door mirror. Having just had a pleasant few weeks working days with not as much as a bad word to say about anyone I instantly got annoyed and vented my anger on these two people. I probably over reacted considering that the puke was outside instead of in but I reduced the woman to tears and the man must have been a pussy because he never said a word to me. When we arrived at their destination he gave me a fiver on top of the fare and they both hurried away from me as quick as they could.
The second incident happened in South Kensington. A passenger needed to stop to get some cash and while he was at the ATM a scruffy loser type came over to the cab. I thought he was going to ask me for money and I was getting ready to tell him to go fuck himself. He asked me where the nearest hospital was and I started directing him. The passenger came back from the ATM and decided to pay me and walk the rest of the way. The loser type was still standing by the cab and was having trouble understanding my directions. I noticed that he was holding his right arm and had a pained look on his face. I asked why he needed a hospital and he said he’d fallen and he thought his arm was broken. Time for me to do a good deed. I told him to get in and I drove him the mile to the Chelsea and Westminster Hospital on the Fulham Road free of charge. He never thanked me or said a word to me but I’ll just put it down to him being in too much pain.
Incident 3 could happen 10 times a day but what struck me was how, when I cut up a lady driver in an Audi TT, she honked the horn and kept it going until she could get around me. We ended up side by side in the traffic of Brompton Road and I was in a relaxed mood with the music playing and my window shut. She had her window down and was screaming obscenities at me, none of which I could hear. All I could see was her mouth opening and shutting which made me laugh. It’s an occupational hazard to be cut up in London so I don’t know why she was getting so aereated. In the end I gave her the finger and she started honking the horn again totally frustrated as I pulled ahead of her and finally turned away from her into Beauchamp Place.
For the sake of this blog I should probably stay on nights as far more stuff happens.
The last job of the night turned out to be a good earner. A bunch of people on the wrong side of Edgware Road. One of them came over and said they needed to go to East London. The other lot were taking their time getting across and the lady who’d crossed started screaming at them to hurry up. A few minutes later two more of the group ambled over the road and said that they’d be taking my cab and that “Gary” wanted her back across the road. “Oh for God’s sake” she said storming off. My two asked how much it would be to Hatch End and Hertford. I badly needed this ride so I had to be careful I didn’t scare them off. One of them said “it shouldn’t go more than eighty quid should it?” You better believe it will I thought to my self. Saying that it would go “slightly more than that” the one who’d asked said “OK go for it” Off I went without a clue as to how to get to Hertford from Hatch End in North West London. The Hatch End part of the journey came to £45 so Hertford was seriously going to dent the remaining passenger’s wallet. I asked for her postcode so as to enter it in to the satnav in case she went to sleep. I set off from Hatch end after agreeing with her that I would need the M25 and the A1(M). I was also really low on diesel but knew I would just about make it as the satnav was telling me I had 26 miles to go. She never went to sleep but sat rigid all the way looking at the meter and making me feel uncomfortable. She finally piped up as we were going through Hertford town centre. “We’ll have to make a detour via a cash point as you insist on charging these ridiculous prices” Me? It’s not my fault she lives where she lives and that they decided to go to Hatch End first. We arrived at her house and the meter read £144.80. She handed over £150 and asked for a receipt. Not knowing if I was getting a tip (I wouldn’t expect one in this case) I started getting her change ready. “You might as well keep that as you’ve had all my other money” she said. I felt like I should say something but thought to my self “she’ll be gone in a few seconds, don’t say anything” I gave her the receipt and she said “good night” in a frosty voice. Was I bothered? Nah.
I was told by my garage last week that I would be getting a TXI this week. The same one I had for two years before I bought my own cab. It’s due up the PCO today for it’s annual overhaul so I’ll be getting a passed and plated cab with everything in perfect working order, I hope.