Camaraderie? What Camaraderie?

I started tonight’s shift with a “scream up” at another cab driver. He was on the point of the Paddington rank and I was behind him. As often happens a person will walk up to the front cab and ask for a price or a question in general. Whilst the front cab is dealing with the question other people will appear from the station, assume he’s taken and start getting into the cabs behind. A very pretty young Asian lady got into mine and was on the hurry up straight away. She was going to a party on a boat at Tower Pier and we only had 20 minutes to make the cross town journey (on a Saturday night!!) She also needed to stop and get some cash and please could I hurry. I couldn’t move because the guy in front was still dealing with the person at his window. Knowing the score I waited patiently but after a couple of minutes and some frothing at the mouth from my pretty Asian I tooted the horn. Another 30 seconds and I tooted the horn again. No sign of movement or even the prospective passenger getting in to his cab. I leant on the horn for about 10 seconds, no joy. Out of the cab I got doing a bit of frothing of my own. I knocked on the drivers window and spread my arms in that “come on man what’s happening” sort of way. He half lowered his window and said “What’s your problem mate?” “What’s my fucking problem? You’re holding everyone up you inconsiderate cunt (yes I did call him that) Why can’t you pull over there out of the way and negotiate with her. A few minutes is ok but you’ve been here nearly five and that’s not on mate, you’re taking the piss” He had his map book out so obviously it was a “roader” to somewhere nice and he was trying to negotiate a fair price but you have to consider who’s behind you and allow them to get out. I think my little outburst did the trick as he pulled off the rank and parked a little way up and continued to negotiate. He gave me a dirty look on my way past him and I almost gave him the finger but I thought my insult to him was enough for one day

A Rainy St Paul's Cathederal

It was sort of drizzling on and off all shift tonight, which made it really busy. I was driving along Kings Road when two guys and a girl flagged me down and asked to be taken to Tulse Hill. They were South African and Australian so I knew straight away there would be no tip. A few minutes into the ride and one of the guys asked if I had any music I could play. I put Virgin Radio on and they instantly recognised the song and started singing loudly to it. The song finished and the DJ announced “And now for something really special”. The opening few words “A long long time ago…” produced screams of delight from all three in the cab and they started singing the song word for word. I must admit I love that song too and was gently mouthing the words under my breath. “Bye Bye Miss American Pie” rang out from the partially opened windows as we drove through the streets of Brixton turning heads in our direction. They played the whole song which must have lasted a good eight or nine minutes and by the songs end my fares flopped down in their seat to catch their breath, it was almost as if they’d just had sex. As predicted, we arrived at their destination with £18.60 on the Hickory*, plenty of thanks and good wishes for the rest of my night but they took the £1.40 change from me with out batting an eyelid.

*Hickory Dickory Dock (from a children’s nursery rhyme) = Clock = meter.
Cockney Rhyming slang, it’s a London thing.

A Rainy Kilburn Lane @ 2am

Talking of tips AGAIN they generally add up to 10% of the nights takings, sometimes even more. Tonight for some reason they only added up to 3%, I wonder why.

The shift ended with another disagreement with a cab driver. I was probably out of order but sometimes you have to do what’s best for you. I was looking for a fare to take me towards home and drove onto Victoria rank with my doors locked and my light off. As the first in the queue approached me I shouted out “are you going north ?” They said they were going south and so did the next 2. The fourth passenger was going my way so I told him to jump in. The cabby that pulled up behind me and jumped out of his cab shouting “Oi what’s going on here, why are you fucking brooming those jobs” I said I wanted to go home to which he said “Then turn your fucking light out and go then, don’t come in here picking and choosing, you’re worse than the minicabs” He was bubbling. But as the saying goes, possession is nine tenths of the law. I had my job in the cab so I just leaned out and said to him “Be lucky mate” and drove off into the night.

A Rainy Carlton Vale, Kilburn @ 2am

My Right Hand

Over the last few days I’ve been a busy little boy. Sometimes there just ain’t enough hours in the day to do what needs to get done and the pressure builds up. Luckily it’s been pretty busy on the streets so with just a few extra hours per day I’ve managed to tip the scales in my direction.

I went over to my cab garage today to part with the weekly £180. I asked them what I always ask them every week. That is if they had a better cab for me yet. Jim, the genial Irishman said “I nearly had a lovely TXII for you with air conditioning and a six CD changer”. “Nearly?” says me, “nearly’s no good, what happened?” Apparently the guy using that particular cab was going to see his son in Australia and was going to spend six months out there, effectively forfeiting his cab to the next available bod, me! But it all fell through at the last minute for no given reason which means I have to continue with my shit-cart whilst indecisive Bill gets to keep the Rolls Royce of London Taxis until he makes his mind up. I wish Jim hadn’t told me now.

I have managed to injure my right hand twice in the last week. I do everything with my right hand and I mean everything so I can’t be going round getting injured or more than my hand will suffer. Firstly I was doing a spot of pearl diving as my old chef used to say, but to you and me let’s just call it the washing up. I was washing a pint glass with an England logo that my boys were particularly proud of when it cracked in my hand and the glass sank almost bone deep into my right index finger. I instinctively squeezed the finger with my other hand but I knew it was deep. I let go for a second and the blood started oozing out at a pretty fast rate. It probably could have done with a few stitches but I just held it tight until the blood coagulated. It popped open a few times that night as I forgot all about it and used my hand in the usual manner but eventually it stayed shut and now, about four days later it’s healing nicely. I took a pic of it but you can’t really see the cut in its full glory.

Poor Finger

The second injury was earlier on today. Again I was doing the washing up and as I was cleaning a fork one of the prongs managed to sink in behind the nail of the “bird” or middle finger. I’m telling you man it fucking hurt. About half the prong managed to stick in and as I held my hand downwards the fork was dangling from my finger. I had to pull it out and as I did the blood came with it. It still hurts and is throbbing now after my shift and I’ll probably lose the nail. I recently lost two nails on my right foot after having kicked a chair in anger at the kids several months ago. I’ve really got to sort my life out!!

I started work a few days ago and as I was driving down Maida Vale towards town I got hailed by someone who looked very familiar to me. As soon as she came to the window to tell me her destination I recognised her as one of my parents’ oldest friends which none of us have seen for at least ten years. I’d heard they’d moved to Spain and she confirmed it to me. She was just over doing a bit of shopping. In the space of time it took me to drive her the half mile to Crawford Street we exchanged as much news and gossip as possible before she got out. She offered me the five pounds fare but I refused to take it. Who knows if I’ll ever see her again…frail that life is. (For all family members racking their brains as to who it was, it was Cathy)

I had a little chuckle to myself tonight as I was hailed by four obviously drunk City workers. Three of them stayed across the road as the only female of the group raced over to hail me. She was standing next to some road works and there was very little room for her to get out of my way as I came bearing down upon her. She backed up as far as she could but instinctively tried to go back a bit further and proceeded to fall backwards against those red and white barriers perched on traffic cones which subsequently pulled down a whole row of barriers and cones.. There was nothing for her to hurt herself against and she fell flat on her back with her arms outstretched helplessly. What made me laugh was that the whole thing looked like it was in slow motion. The three guys collapsed in fits of laughter and were really no help to her at all but eventually helped her up. She soon recovered and they started singing loudly all the way to their destination. I rang my daughter on the way and told her to have a listen to the racket going on in the back of the cab and she had a good laugh.
I haven’t posted many photos lately as there just hasn’t been anything that’s taken my fancy but I did take a couple recently of a London sunset.

Sunset over Kilburn

Sunset over Paddington

What a bunch of spastics.

In fact that is probably an insult to handicapped people so I take that back. What I'm reffering to is our national football team who last night went out of the World Cup quarter finals yet again. They did the hard bit and held Portugal to a draw with ten men but when it went to penalties they only managed to score one out of five. A few of the younger viewers at my house were reduced to tears but I have come to expect this sort of heartache so did the next best thing.....went out to work.

I only did 10 jobs tonight 5 good rides and 5 not so good rides.
As per usual after an England game the streets were crawling with drunks but add a defeat into the mix and those drunks want to take it out on someone.

I picked four drunk guys up in Piccadilly and took them down to Victoria and while I was stuck in the Piccadilly traffic they were shouting out of the windows at everybody. There were a few Portugese flags flying from cars and they got singled out with special abuse along the lines of "Ronaldo's dead" and "Cheating cunts".

Later I had another pair of sore guys who threw a bottle out of the window at no one in particular. It smashed on a parked car causing heads to turn.

I don't know why I bother going out after an England defeat because it's always the same. No wonder we get a bad reputation abroad.

The best job of the night took me up to Rayners Lane in north west London. These two had also watched the game but were a bit more graceful in defeat.

Rich Pickings

Productively I had a blinding night last night.
I started at 19.40 to be precise and finished at around 1.15am. 5 hours and 35 minutes to be precise but it was non-stop work and of the good quality sort too (apart from the last one).

The first job was from Paddington Station to Liverpool Street Station, a nice cross-town job to start the day. It was an attractive Italian lady on crutches who said she had broken her leg while back home in Italy skiing. I’m sure some people are really good at it but it’s never appealed to me at all. I use to go ice skating in my youth and spent 70% of the time shining the rink with my arse. It must have something to do with poor balance.

A few jobs later I found myself at the Eurostar terminal at Waterloo. A Scottish couple with kids asked to be taken to the Days Inn Hotel about a two minute drive from there and by the time we arrived the kids had managed to press every button, open and shut every window at least twenty times including the partition, disengage the wheelchair security belt causing an annoying bleeper to sound and put hand and finger prints on all the recently cleaned windows. And as usual the parents were oblivious to it all. If it had been a longer trip I would have had to say something but I thought best not to alienate them for tipping sake.
So we get to the hotel out comes the Scottish money and I get paid the £4 fare and sweet FA else. Que vamos a hacer?

In complete contrast an ultra posh couple stopped me at the light on my way out of Waterloo and the man asked me where I was going. I said wherever he wanted and they got in and we set off for Sloane Square. The fare was £11 and he gave me £15. Much better. I know a lot of commenters on other blogs criticize us cabbies for going on about the tips or lack of them. In general I don’t care either way whether I get a tip, I’m just happy to get paid the metered fare but it is nice when a tip is added. I once picked a guy up who only went a short distance £3.40, or something similar, and he offered me a £20 note. I said I was low on change and did he have anything smaller, he told me to keep the change. But the non-tippers far outweigh the tippers, at least here in London.

The work continued one after the other and after 5 hours I had already taken what it usually takes me 8-10 hours. The next job going my way was always going to be my last one for the night. So after an effortless night I suppose I had to end the night with a bit of grief.

A guy flags me down in James Street off Oxford Street and asks for Fellows Road and adds “the shit bit” to which I could only assume he wanted one of the tower blocks. James Street being one way southbound has an “ahead only” sign so you can’t take a left or right into Oxford Street, you’re forced ahead in to Gilbert Street and then have to do two right turns and a left and then a U-turn in Oxford Street. With all these left and rights it was inevitable that the guy would pipe up, sometimes you just know it’s gonna happen and you even prepare your answer. “Where the fuck are we going mate?” the standard question of the ignoramus. As I explained he started getting more animated and started accusing me of “tucking him up”. I love it when this happens in the centre of town as there’s always loads of police about so I made sure I stopped near a parked police car and told him to get out. If you show any signs of being a pussy these people will exploit that so when I “lose the rag” I lose control and start ranting and raving for them to fuck off and take another cab they soon get the message. So out he went cursing and swearing to himself and I just turned around and went home.

No Comparison

I stopped off to get a drink and came across a new type of Diet Coke in a black can called Coca Cola Zero. Unless you drink battery acid don’t bother. It was revolting and I even think it upset my stomach as I was up a few times in the night to use the toilet. I'll stick to the regular Diet Coke in future.

Talking Dirty

I’m almost back to normal after these last two weeks have seen my bank balance take a serious battering. There were weddings to attend, family functions, clothes to buy, nights off to watch England progress in the World Cup, general day to day living expenses all requiring money that wasn’t being earned for one reason or another. But I’m now focussed and raring to go!! Not.

I did two shifts today. The first one was only a few hours long as I wanted to watch the Spain V France game. I was mostly over on the east side of town and took the opportunity to visit the Beigel Shop in Brick Lane. I had a cream cheese and salmon beigel ( I thought it was spelt bagel!) and it tasted pukka!!!!

Beigel Shop, Brick Lane

I was eavesdropping on a conversation, as one does, and wished I had a tape recorder with me. These two ladies were discussing their sexual exploits and were using language that even an old seadog like me felt uncomfortable with (did I ever mention I used to be in the merchant navy?) I don’t know what it is about posh people but they seem to think that when they get in a cab it’s ok to talk like a sewer because the cabbie is bound to be common and used to such language. Well I wouldn’t say I was common, well not too common, and I am used to the language but not from people like them and I almost said something to them. I can’t think of a dirty word they never used and as this is a family site (ha ha) I won’t repeat what they said but needless to say it was disgusting.

Sex talk

Talking of sex this next picture is of Sussex Gardens in the Paddington district. Who would think that this lovely tree-lined street, which by day is busy with tourists coming and going about their business, turns into a sleazy red light zone which is crawling with prostitutes as soon as the sun sets? During the course of my work I’ve had to approach many of these girls and ask how much they charge for their services for the guy in the back who’s too much of a pussy to ask for himself. I don’t mind asking as long as they make it worth my while but I draw the line at letting any sexual activity take place in the cab. I don’t want no bodily fluids on my back seat.

Sussex Gardens By Day

There are still thousands of cars and taxis driving around with the English flag flying from some part of the vehicle. I must admit as England progress through the tournament I’m tempted to put a couple of flags up myself. We play Portugal on Saturday and I think the country is starting to believe we can go all the way. I concur.

Flying The Flag of St. George

COME ON ENGLAND!!!!!!!!!!!

Hard Graft

I started at 10.45am on Wednesday morning and have just come home at 3.30am on Thursday morning. What does that tell you? Well it’s the longest shift I’ve ever done for a start and it was only done out of necessity. I’ve had so much on this last week that work has suffered a bit. I went to a Stag night last Saturday and the following day there was a family gathering at my parents house which called for my presence. This Saturday me and the kids are going to a wedding and we all have to be kitted out with new gear, hence the Cole Porter (London cabby speak for working all hours).

The replacement Palm handheld I bought recently was a lesser model than the one that was stolen and I just haven’t managed to take to it. So much so that I started looking around for a different one. Enter little brother Joe. He bought himself an iPAQ a few years ago and has never taken it on the road so out of the kindness of his lil ol heart decided that I would benefit from it more than him and promptly delivered it in person yesterday. It’s an iPAQ h5550 and according to this review was the Tungsten C equivalent, which is the one I had stolen. It has built in WiFi and can connect to the net when I’m out working but I have to find a few hotspots to make the most of it. It has many other functions and I’m well pleased with it. Cheers Joe.

I went over to my garage today to pay the weekly rent. I asked when they would be getting any newer cabs as I’m just about coping with the jalopy I’m driving at the moment. They couldn’t put a date on it and even hinted that they may have to get rid of some of the older cabs altogether which would mean that newly arrived drivers such as myself would have to go elsewhere to rent a cab. I’m not bothered as there are lots of garages around but I’ll wait and see what happens before I move on.

There was work everywhere today and I took an extremely decent amount of money. On two occasions today I looked round to see if anything had been left on the back seat and found money. One was a five-pound note and the other was a whole heap of change totalling seven pounds forty pence.

I had a nice run out to Feltham earlier. I almost drove past as I thought it was a drunk loser but it turned out to be a masculine looking female with a lovely personality. She asked me for a price and I said it would probably be anywhere between forty and fifty pounds. She wanted to pay by card but I don’t do cards at present so we stopped at a cash point. She was so easy to talk to and we told each other our life stories. The fare ended up at fifty six pounds and I felt I had to let her off the six pounds as I had practically fallen in love with her by journey’s end.
In complete contrast I found myself on Paddington Station rank later on and there was a guy being rejected by all the cabbies in front of me. At this point I couldn’t see what was going on but the guy decided to sit on the ground next to the rank as other passengers struggled to get past him into the cabs. Wouldn’t you know it? As I took the pole position he decides to try his luck again with me. I locked the doors and left the window open a few inches. He gets up and almost falls back down, a sure sign that he’s drunk or under the influence. Puts his face sideways against the partially open window and says: “Will you fucking take me to Ealing?” His breath stunk of drink. “No I fucking won’t take you to Ealing” I shout at him. “ And what’s more no one else will take you either if that’s how you’re gonna ask them” He replaced his face with his fist and extended the middle finger and with all the hatred he could muster said: “Well fuck you and all your pals, you’re all a bunch of cunts”. I was so tempted to close the electric window on his hand but thought better of it. He backed away from the cab and took up the same position on the ground. A normal person walked up and asked to be taken a few quid away but I didn’t care, I just wanted to get out of the station.

Two Nil To The Ingerland.....

Yes it was two nil to England after they pulled their finger out in the second half. Credit to T&T they defended well but apart from a fantastic clearance off the line by John Terry they hardly troubled us. Bring on the Swedes and maybe Germany in the second round.

I knew it would be busy after the game so I went straight out to work. What I never really thought about was the drunken idiots that would also be out there. You'd think that after watching their country win and progress to the next stage of the World Cup that they would be happy and even chilled out. Not so. Having been a warring island nation since time began people in this country are just born with a fighting gene and love to excercise it at every opportunity. I must have seen at least half a dozen fights on my travels around the city. Police sirens were constantly blazing. I was taking two ladies to Southfields and as I was driving through Putney three guys in England shirts were kicking the shit out of eachother. One of their girlfriends was trying to break it up and I saw her shoved away from the scrum and land on her arse on the pavement. About half an hour later I was driving along the Kings Road and I saw something similar but there was only two of them and one of them was taunting the other guy with a traffic cone, Absolutely crazy.

Workwise I never stopped the whole time I was out. Everybody wanted to talk about the football and by the third or fourth job I was repeating what others had said to me as my own. I got my other cab back today with the fixed suspension (it's still crap though) so it was hard to hear what people were saying because the gap in the partition is on the opposite side to me as opposed to right behind me in older cabs. There is also an intercom in this cab but it's not working.

I only did six hours but I took a full days money in that time.
I took a guy out to Northolt and he was trying to chat me up. What's up with that? I always get them don't I? When we got there he asked me to come in for a bowl of soup!!! Who the heck has soup at home, I know I don't. I did all I could not to offend the guy. I think he really thought he'd cracked it with me but yet again, as in all these events, I had to disappoint him. It turned out to be my last job and I flew down the A40 towards home extremely pleased with my nights work.

Knackered Suspension

Since my last post the weather has cooled down somewhat. From the unbearable heat that we were having it has now dropped down to a bearable cooler temperature. I’m sure it’s only a brief respite and that the sun is lurking up there behind the clouds, but it’s nice all the same.

I’m guessing the ratio but probably one in every ten streets in London have speed bumps of some description or other. There are the smooth variety that only require a minor decrease in speed and then there are those that you must climb up one side and drop off the other. There are lots of in between styles as well and I’d love to meet the people that decide which type are going to be put where and give them a piece of my mind. Collectively, they are the cause of much damage to vehicles. Exhaust pipes and sumps regularly scrape these bumps causing hundreds of pounds worth of damage. Suspension systems also take a battering and it is for this reason that I had to take my cab to the garage yesterday. Every time I drove over a bump or pot hole a loud banging could be heard. Basically the suspension was knackered and I spent three hours at the garage waiting while they fixed it only to be told that they had been trying to fit a wrong part and that I would have to leave it overnight. They gave me an even older cab (94) which had no diesel in it, I had just filled the other one up, so I had to spend more money juicing this one up.

On the work front I’ve been doing OK this last week. As predicted I’m back out working in the evenings driving around with the dregs of society as well as the nice people.

I got hailed by a couple of losers a few nights ago in Stockwell. Why I stopped in Stockwell I’ll never know but these two guys were as high as kites and wanted to go on a drug run. We headed off towards the Tulse Hill area to a council estate and one of them got out and back in three or four times while the other one was whispering into his phone. I hate these types of jobs and if I get the opportunity I generally do what I did next. Both of them went in to a flat leaving a carrier bag on the back seat. And after observing them enter the flat I drove off with about £11 on the meter. I’ve done this many many times before and believe I’ve saved myself a lot of grief whilst losing a few quid along the way. There were two cans of Carlsberg Special Brew (the preferred drink of alcoholics and losers) in the bag which got thrown off Vauxhall Bridge on the way back in to civilization.

Have any of you drivers ever been egged? Is it just a British thing? I got egged for the second time this year in Cavendish Avenue in St. John’s Wood a few nights ago. The other time was in Albany Street next to a council estate. You’d expect to get egged there but not St. John’s Wood. This time the egg splattered on the rear wing so it was easy to hose off at the garage round the corner. I never saw the culprit this time as it came from over someone’s garden wall but the time before it was a gang of kids and they caught the cab lovely while I had my window down and it sprayed into the back through a gap in the screen that the TX’s have, it made a right mess and took me half an hour to clean. Little bastards.

After two years of detouring through Porchester Road, Bishops Bridge was finally re-opened after being completely replaced with a brand new bridge. It is the main access point for Paddington Station from the north and also a gateway to many other destinations. Although you get used to and adapt when a major road is closed it’s nice when it re-opens and eases the traffic in the area.

England play Trinidad and Tobago in their second game in the World Cup today at 5pm. Cabs will be scarce on the roads but I will be out working soon after and expect to “Clean Up”.
COME ON ENGLAND!!!!!!!!!!!

Indian Summer

We’re in the middle of an Indian summer here in London and it’s too hot to do anything. With no aircon in my cab it has all suddenly become too much for me. The World Cup (which one I hear you ask, there is only one World Cup!) is on at the moment so I find myself watching that instead of working. Result? Bank balance suffers. England won their first game 1–0 but made hard work of it. We have an easier (on paper) game on Thursday which should see us progress to the next round, fingers crossed.

I managed to purchase a refurbished replacement Palm for the one I had stolen last week and I am sitting here waiting for DHL to deliver it. They have a tracking function on their website and it says it’s with the courier at the moment but no delivery time. We’ve all waited in for a delivery and without a time it could mean a whole day is lost although I have been pottering about this morning clearing all the coke cans and pizza boxes from last night's WWE event that saw my two sons and their two cousins glued to the TV.

I have actually been doing some work and even with the heat it’s still been busy out there. Again, there hasn’t been much out of the ordinary to report other than people moaning about the cab fare or which route I was taking.

I did come across a strange occurrence last night whilst driving west on Fulham Road. At the junction with Munster Road I came across a bunch of drunk Aussies playing Rugby.
They were throwing the ball to one another American Football style and hitting cars in the process prompting a wave of horn blasts from irate drivers at all four road junctions. My passenger just happened to be Australian and found the whole thing hilarious and even encouraged the guys as we drove past. When I dropped her off and returned the same way they were still at it and one motorist had got out of his car to have a go at them. Summer madness.

My final job last night saw me enter Victoria Station where there was a long queue of people as on most Sunday nights. A youngish guy with an iPod was to be my fare. He asked me how much it would be to go to Seven Sisters in North London. I said around the thirty-pound mark. He thought about it for a few seconds then said lets go. I didn’t like the look of him so I said I’d need the thirty up front. “Don’t you trust me?” he said. “Just covering myself mate, d’you want it or not?” I replied acting tough. He took out his wallet and handed over the thirty pounds and off we went. Him listening to his iPod and me listening to Coldplay performing live at this weekends Isle of Wight Festival on Virgin Radio. I never looked round once the whole way there until I pulled up outside Seven Sisters Underground Station. He was spark-out. I had to shout at him about three times to wake him. It took him a few minutes to realise what planet he was on then another one to realise what area he was in. When I pointed out the station the recognition was complete. He then looked at the meter (£29.80, not a bad estimate) and asked for the 20p change. Well I totally expected that from someone like that but was glad I’d taken the money first as he definitely would have been trouble.

I Believe In Karma

What goes around comes around, Karma, call it what you like. I had a taste of that today and it wasn’t nice. I had to take my Dad to Moorfields Eye Hospital for his pre-op appointment. I can normally park on the taxi rank outside the front door but today there were two cabs occupying it. I put my cab on a parking meter and had to pay £4 per hour. I put in enough for four hours so work that out. All my valuables get locked in the boot when I go off and leave the cab, the only trouble today was that I forgot to lock the boot. The other cab just used to shut but this one has to be locked and lately I’ve been forgetting. I had no reason to take my stuff out until after I’d dropped my Dad home and gone to my own home. I had a nap for a few hours as it had been a long day and at 9pm I decided to go to work for a few hours. I went to the rear of the cab to retrieve my bag and found the boot unlocked, no surprise there. I put the bag in the front with me and started my daily ritual of preparing for work. Where was my money pouch? Where was my £1 coin container with about £30 in coin? And most horrifyingly, where was my Palm Tungsten C PDA? Some dirty rotten bastard had knicked all three things. If they’d have lifted the whole bag out and made off with that they’d have landed themselves with my satnav and my Sony digital camera as well but for some reason they left it behind. The reason I said what I did at the top of the page is because someone had done to me what, as a youth, I did to many people. I must have destroyed a few peoples lives way back when I was a lad with a set of keys that could open anyone’s boot so I just smiled to myself and said “serves you right” It still doesn’t mean I’m not gutted at losing the Palm because I am. I had so much personal info on there and all my databases that I’m going to have to replace it soon. I’ve seen a few on ebay but they want too much money. They’re quite an old model now and should realistically only go for around £50. I’ll keep looking.
It definitely affected my work because I only managed around 6 jobs. The last one took me so near home that I couldn’t resist. I went straight in to look on ebay.

Homecoming

Today (Sunday) was the end of school half term. It is generally always an extremely busy day for work as people are returning with their kids from all over the world. I made sure I got out early to fill my boots and I wasn’t disappointed. It was a scorching hot day so had it not been for the end of holiday then we’d have all been driving about empty as people opted to walk.
I called in at my usual stations, Paddington and Victoria (main entrance and the Raft around the back).

The Raft (Victoria)

The work was continuous for most of the evening. Even the beggar at Victoria was having a good day as he asked me to change some his day’s takings into notes. I counted it all out first and there was £15 there. Not bad for doing nothing all day except making a nuisance of yourself. I only did it as I was short of pound coins otherwise he’d have got the blanking treatment.

The only real blogworthy occurrence of the night was when four people in Grosvenor Square flagged me down and they asked for the Thistle Marble Arch. As they were getting in one of the women didn’t keep her head down and butted the top of the cab. She fell backwards into the arms of the person behind her as if knocked out and started sobbing. This sort of thing happens regularly with the Fairway taxis but never with the TXI and II’s as they are a little bit higher. Many years ago I stopped for a couple that had a baby in a backpack and as they bent to get in the baby caught it full in the face. I had seen it happen but they were oblivious to it until the baby, who had the wind knocked out of him, caught his breath and started screaming and wailing uncontrollably. It was a terrible thing to witness. As always, by the time we reach the destination the passenger has recovered somewhat and walks away from the cab rubbing their head, poor things.

One other occurrence worth mentioning. I was driving along Horseferry Road and was flagged by an unlikely pairing of a well-dressed man and a scruffy black youth. The youth waved the man over to me and headed off in the other direction. The well-dressed man had been looking for his hotel but couldn’t find it. He produced one of those cards with all the hotel details on it. The hotel was a five-minute walk away. I told him to jump in and that I’d whisk him round there in a minute but he seemed reluctant to get in. I said I wouldn’t charge him as I was going the same way and, surprisingly, he was inside the cab in a flash. 30 seconds later he recognized his hotel and started making some funny gurgling noises. I pulled over, he jumped out, thanked me and that was that.

I was so busy that I never stopped for supper. I popped in to an all night shop but couldn’t decide what I wanted. I ended up with a packet of Italian Salami to make a sandwich at home and a packet of ready to eat mangoes, both of which have been duly demolished and washed down with a cup of tea. Goodnight John-boy!!!

On the pull

I hadn’t been to see my parents since the 14th of May so after dropping my son off at his Saturday job I popped round there. My sister was also there doing a spot of spring cleaning and we commented on how this time last year we were doing the same thing whilst my mum was in Spain with my sick dad. Dad remains in good health but has yet another operation to look forward to on his eye. It’s to remove a cataract which will hopefully clear up his vision in that eye. Mum was mourning the loss of Rocío Jurado, a famous Spanish singer. I had never heard of her but mum was really taking it badly and even shed a tear.

I had meant to start early today but England were playing Jamaica in a friendly and it was on TV so I decided to cook some pasta for me and the kids and watch the game. England won 6-0, a sign of things to come perhaps?

I got out the door at 6.30pm and had to find a petrol station that didn’t have a queue. So many have closed down due to leases expiring and plans to build flats on the property that the few that remain are always busy. The BP in St. John’s Wood was empty, probably because it’s the dearest garage in the area. After paying for my fuel and returning to the cab two American couples walked up to me and asked me to take them to the Mermaid Theatre at Blackfriars. The traffic was slow most of the way. I pulled a couple of strokes to get out of it but it always met me on the other side. After about the third stoke one of the women piped up in the back. Did I know it was in Blackfriars? Yes luv I’ve been a cabbie for sixteen years. Why were we taking so many turns? To get you there quicker, haven’t you noticed the traffic? How much further? About 10 minutes. Then the classic one. We’re not tourists, we live in London. That’s a coincidence so do I. I don’t need this sort of shit but it happens from time to time and it takes a lot of effort not to be rude or lose it altogether. Inspite of all that they still gave me a nice tip and told me to have a nice day. I love Americans.

I was driving southwards on Highgate Road when a man flagged me. Did I know where the Forum was? “Yes mate it’s just there” I replied indicating the said building to him. “Well I need to go past that and towards the railway bridge” he said climbing into the cab. The railway bridge was only about 400 yards away. He was telling someone on the phone of his location. As we approached the bridge he told me to stop by a guy on a phone, I assumed it was the guy he was talking to. As we pulled up the guy on the pavement about turned and walked away. My passenger let out a sigh. I asked what was happening and he said that I should just wait there. Not a word was spoken for five minutes whilst I tried to figure out what the hell was going on. You get all sorts of strange ones in this job and as a rule I never make any comments. After the five minutes were up he handed me a fiver, the exact fare, and said that it was the strangest cab ride he’d ever had and got out heading in the same direction as the other fella. Ours is not to reason why etc etc.

I sat next to Battersea Park tonight eating my Satay Chicken and Rice and listening to Virgin Radio as I regularly do when this extremely camp old geezer walked up to the window and said “are you free?” like John Inman in Are You Being Served, the 80’s TV show. I nearly answered, “I’m free” in the same camp voice but he might have thought I was taking the piss out of him so I just said “yes mate where you going?” He said “I’d love for you to take me to the Kentucky Fried Chicken in Marble Arch” I haven’t heard it mentioned by it’s full name for ages as everyone says KFC, but anyway, off we went. He started asking me all the usual questions that passengers ask a hundred times over then basically tried to find out if I liked cock instead of pussy. Fifteen years ago I would have stopped and thrown him out but these days I humour people like that. I asked him if he thought I looked like I might like cock, he replied in the affirmative. He said he always tried it on with cabbies and sometimes got lucky. Not tonight he never. If as many women chatted me up as men do then I’d be a happy man.

Tapering off.

I did another long day today and am completely shattered but if I don’t write this now it’ll never get written. As you’ve probably seen, the blog has tapered off somewhat. That’s due to the fact that I’m doing much longer hours and need to unwind by watching TV and not typing. I’ve now moved on from Lost to Season 5 of Smallville, another great show.

Between yesterday and today I’ve done about 50 jobs so it’s safe to say I’ve been busy. The rain we’ve had recently seems to have gone away for a while and the mega demand for cabs is over. Now it’s just the bread and butter work that’s always there. I’m using totally different ranks during the day. There’s an extremely busy rank outside Waitrose (supermarket) in Marylebone High Street that I keep going back to. It’s only a two-cab rank and it’s not always possible to get on the back. These small working ranks should be just for that…work. But some cabbies abuse them by parking on them and going off to do their shopping or banking.

As the football World Cup draws nearer the amount of England flags that can be seen from every other vehicle increases. Transport for London have allowed licensed taxis to display the England flag but to make sure it doesn’t “get in the way”, whatever that means. Although I can be patriotic I don’t like drawing attention to myself with these sorts of decorations but I will be backing the team 100%.

My camera has been buried at the bottom of my bag for the last couple of weeks so today I took a few with my phone and the quality is not as good.
The Mall is the red coloured road in front of Buckingham Palace with all the flags that is often seen during the London Marathon. I clicked a few off whilst driving down it earlier.

Traffic in The Mall

Buckingham Palace

Cyclists in The Mall

I managed to get on the rank at Victoria station earlier and by the time I made it to the front it had taken about 20 minutes, so only a decent paying job would do. An Asian couple came walking into view and don’t ask me why but I had visions of a trip westwards. My face dropped as they asked for the Thistle Westminster Hotel. “But it’s only around the corner” I protested. “Well we don’t know where it is” said the guy. “Turn right and walk to the second corner and there it is” I said hopefully. “My wife’s tired, we’ve done a lot of walking today, please can you take us?” What could I say? The meter starts at £2.20. When I pulled up outside the hotel it read £2.40. He gave me £2.50 and said keep the change. How kind of him.

When I’m in and around the Paddington Station area I like to get a kebab from Kolossi in London Street. I’ve been going there for years now and always have a good chat with the owner. His face always lights up when he sees me and he comes over and makes me the kebab himself, always over stuffing the pitta bread with kebab meat. I hadn’t been in there for a few weeks but it tasted better than ever, not like the one that did my guts in the other day.

A few days R+R

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.

Lost

I’ve been watching Season 1 of Lost over the last few nights. It’s very addictive when watched back to back and I’ve had to ration myself to 6 episodes a night. I’ve now seen the whole season and have to find a way of getting the next season without waiting months for it to come out over here.

I started late today due to watching a double dose of Lost. I was out and about by 1pm. One of the first jobs I had to do was to take a lady whose car had run out of juice to the garage to fill her petrol can.

My passenger at the pump

She brought the can back to the cab full to the brim and all the petrol was leaking everywhere. I made her go back into the pay booth to get a couple of carrier bags to put it in then drove her back to her Mini.

Fuzzy but back at her car

I needed to buy my son a universal remote control for his TV so I stopped at Argos in Victoria. My brother in law Lloyd rang me at the same time and said he was on his way over Vauxhall Bridge so we met up by the shop and had coffee and a Cornish Pasty in Victoria Station. The remote control worked without putting a code in and has apparently got thousands of codes pre-loaded so it will be handy when one of our other remotes disappear as they do on a regular basis.

It was “Cab Rent” day today. Another £180. That’s the third lot since I sold my cab. The weeks seem to come and go so quickly. There was no crack (banter) at the garage today. Everyone was lost in their own little world and nobody wanted to check my levels so lost out on the tip. I needed a few things doing on the cab such as those vibrating wings and those lights on the dash but gauging the mood I thought it best to leave it till another time.

I’ve been updating my Venue Database on my Palmtop handheld and it helped me out a couple of times today with a restaurant and a hotel. Andrew Edmunds (restaurant) 46 Lexington Street W1 and The Ramada Encore London West. 4 Portal Way W3 off A40 Westway.

My Palm Tungsten C, I love it dearly

The rest of the jobs I did today were completely uneventful. There was a bit of rain and the traffic wasn’t too bad. On my way home I decided to put some diesel in rather than do it tomorrow and was greeted by a sign on the pump. It’s a sign of the times when garages have to resort to these measures and I think it’s gonna get a whole lot worse.

Sign of the times

Good Start

I had a cracking first job yesterday from what’s fast becoming the place to pick up. A man flagged me down in Maida Vale. I seem to trap here every time I start work. It’s quite an exclusive area with many well-known residents. I live just a few hundred yards from the main Maida Vale road but in a different borough so my street is nowhere near as posh. Anyway, this guy was all flustered and obviously under extreme pressure to run some errands for whoever paid his wages. First stop and most importantly was a cash point to get my money. From there we went straight into the West End to Massimo Dutti on Regent Street. If any of you know Regent Street during the day it’s impossible to park there let alone wait for any length of time while people nip out to do a spot of shopping. He expected me to simply pull up outside the shop and wait. I told him he had Bob Hope and no hope of me doing that and I would have to wait a couple of streets away. He wasn’t too happy about that but it was the only option. 20 minutes later he returns weighed down with bags and more stressed out than ever. Next stop was Russell & Bromley, a shoe shop in Conduit Street. A bit easier to wait here but still busy with wardens lurking. He was in and out in 2 minutes empty handed. Gucci in Sloane Street was next. He spent 15 minutes in there and I had to drive round the block twice due to being moved on. I was getting a bit stressed myself but consoled myself in the knowledge that this would be a good earner.

Gucci, Sloane Street, Chelsea

Onto Its’u, a Sushi Bar on Walton Street, Chelsea “to get myself some lunch” he said. I tried Sushi recently and spat it out as it tasted revolting.

Its'u, Walton Street, Chelsea

Next stop was The Conran Shop on Sloane Avenue. It had a cab rank right outside the door but the goods must have been ready for collection as he came out loaded with bags within about a minute. Gordon Watson in Fulham Road was next. He was struggling with a heavy box so I jumped out and gave him a hand. Last pick up was a shop in Kings Road called Guinevere. It was all blacked out so I couldn’t see what type of shop it was but he came out with more bags. The back of the cab was looking pretty full now as we drove to the Old Gasworks behind the Harley Davidson shop where he had an office. Total fare for an hour and a half’s work with a bit of stress thrown in…….£60 including a nice tip. One of those a day and life would be sweet.

As he was getting out there were people waiting to get in. I took them in to Central London and decided to get to a bank before a long job took me out of the area. I found a parking spot on Dover Street and someone had kindly left an hour and a half on the meter. At £1 for each 15 minutes that worked out to £6 they’d left on there. I took the opportunity to get myself some lunch from Prêt a Manger in Piccadilly and sat in the cab watching the world go by using up the previous motorists’ parking time. Can it get any better than that?

The only other fare with anything to comment on was a frail old lady I picked up from Paddington Station. They brought her to the cab on one of those buggies and it took her a few minutes to get in, prompting the cabs waiting behind me to honk their horns. We set off towards Liverpool Street Station and I knew it was going to be a heavy journey due to the cross-town traffic. Half way down Park Lane she pipes up with “Driver, where on earth are we going?” “Liverpool Street” I pipe back. “Why are we going west then?” (We were travelling south east) “You’re obviously not a local so why don’t you just relax and enjoy the ride?” she muttered something unintelligible and we continued on our way. The traffic was bad all the way and I half expected her to comment on the ever increasing metered fare. When we got to Liverpool Street Station I had to go and find the Customer Assistance guys to come and collect her with another buggy (leaving the meter running of course). That added another couple of pounds as they took nearly 10 minutes. The fare was £23 and she gave me £4 on top and thanked me for my help. What a nice old dear!
So, the verdict on my first full week of day work? Hard work but quite enjoyable and profitable.

Where have all the idiots gone?

I did 28 jobs today. You’d think there’d be something juicy to write about but the fact of the matter is that without alcohol inside them people are just normal. I’m still on days and managing pretty well but there are just no idiots out there during the daylight hours. (Wow! That sounded like I wanted there to be idiots to write about) There’s plenty of traffic and plenty of noise. I thought London was under attack again due to the amount of sirens I heard today. There was a fire in the Marylebone area and lots of the surrounding roads were closed off but it didn’t affect me as I was working a different part of town. What I like about days is the constant stream of work that’s available all day long. Come the evening I have to pull myself away from it and head for home. It would be so easy to stay out for 3 or 4 more hours but I would probably burn myself out by doing it on a regular basis.

Most of the runs I did barely reached £5. Like the Royal Albert Hall to High Street Kensington, £3.60 or the Cumberland Hotel to Curzon Street, £4.80 or even Piccadilly to Eccleston Mews, £4.50 but if they come one after the other then the time passes quickly and the money soon mounts up.
Amongst all the short hops came one out to the City Airport. Two Dutchmen catching a flight to Amsterdam, where incidentally, my eldest son Danny is at this moment. They were on the hurry up but I soon burst their bubble when I told them it would be a long and painfully slow journey. Traffic going eastbound during the afternoon has always been notoriously slow. I think it’s simply because the bulk of people working this side of town come from the eastern suburbs and beyond. There are only two major roads heading east. They are The Highway and Commercial Road and they were both choc-a-block. It took the best part of an hour to get them to the airport and they looked really pissed off.

The Highway at a standstill both ways

London City Airport

Lately, I’ve been incurring a lot of bank charges due to late payments. I needed to find a bank to pay some money in and I had about 30 minutes to do it. I’m always leaving it too late and end up stressing my self out. Not good for my already too high blood pressure. From the City Airport I ended up in East Ham close to West Ham United’s football ground. I had to find a parking space and then try to find the bank in an unfamiliar area. The queue was out the door and I thought I would explode but I survived it and chilled out in the local McD’s with a chicken sandwich and a Coke.

The traffic coming back towards town was marginally better than the outbound traffic, but not a lot better. There were some nice views of the Millenium Dome and Canary Wharf to look at whilst stewing in the traffic.

Millenium Dome and Canary Wharf

I got stuck on the Aldgate one-way system without moving for about 15 minutes. It was absolute gridlock. A police car turned on his siren and tried to get through but even he had trouble. When he did manage to get through the whole line of traffic I was in followed him, including me. It’s a cheeky thing to do and I’m the first one to complain if others do it but on this occasion it just had to be done.

The work was still plentiful and as I said in the end I had to drag myself away from it as I didn’t want to wear myself out.
I ordered an Indian meal for the kids and me and went to collect it nearby my house.
The TV was on and the latest Big Brother was just starting, I think it’s BB7. The housemates were being introduced one by one and as usual there’s an assortment of normal and freaky people. One of them is called Pete and has Tourettes Syndrome so that should keep things interesting in the house.

The Gherkin

I’m working days at the moment. I can’t make my mind up whether I prefer them to nights. It’s nice to be home in the evening but the days are much longer for the same or less money and I still have all the chores waiting for me when I get home.

I was out by 10am today. I trapped almost immediately on Maida Vale and took her to the Eastman Dental Hospital in Grays Inn Road. When she got in she asked if I minded going a particular route. I always prefer passengers to name their route so that if we hit traffic then it’s their fault. She rattled off the name of every single street she wanted me to take, about 15 in all. I would have taken her a completely different way and avoided the traffic we hit on three of the streets she requested but the passenger is always right.

What I like about days is that there’s plenty of work. The rides are much shorter on the whole but there’s more work out there than evenings. Also the banks are open, all the nice sandwich bars and eateries are open and the shops are all open so I can park on taxi ranks and do a bit of shopping.

We have a building in The City called 30 St. Mary Axe but it is affectionately known as “The Gherkin” due to its shape. Today was the first time I’ve ever been asked for it by its nickname. I was too close to get a photo so here’s one off the web.

30 St. Mary Axe, aka The Gherkin

Since I am now renting my cab I have to make a weekly visit to the garage to pay the rent. It’s in Kentish Town a bit off the beaten track but there’s always a bit of banter to be had with the lads. They also check that the various fluid levels are topped up and it’s customary to tip whoever does it one or two pounds so there’s always a scramble to be the one who checks the levels. Today the discussion was about all the drivers getting fines for various traffic offences. The garage manager, Jim, a genial Irishman, had a stack of summonses for various drivers who had been caught by the dreaded cameras breaking some law or other. There’s a new law being introduced as we speak that gives priority to cyclists at the head of a traffic queue. They have their own box marked out and cars stopping inside these boxes risk a fine and three points on their licence. 12 points and you get a six-month ban. I’m on six points at the moment but I’m really trying to behave myself. The points last for three years so I still have two years left.

The “For Hire” light on the top of my cab is very dim and during the day people seem to have trouble deciding whether I’m for hire or not. I’ve been getting blank stares from would be passengers and have seen them in my rear view mirror flagging the cab behind me. I forgot to mention it at the garage so I popped into Halfords in Battersea and bought a couple of stronger wattage bulbs. I fitted them straight away and guess what? It made no difference whatsoever. I think that the lens on the “For Hire” sign isn’t refracting the light properly. I’ve tried cleaning it inside and out but it’s still the same. I’m sure it’s costing me fares; in fact I know it is so I may even pop back to the garage tomorrow.

Attack of the Bluebottles

We’re under attack by a plague of Bluebottles. I don’t know why it’s happening but there are thousands of them. I have an idea that something has died behind the toilet, possibly a rat, and flies have laid their eggs. I’ve spent the last few hours spraying fly killer in all the cracks and crevices but if it doesn’t solve the problem by tomorrow I will have to open up the pipe housing for a closer inspection. I’ve often seen the odd rat scuttling about and some have even ended up in the toilet bowl. These houses are only about 6 years old but for some reason attract a variety of insects and animals. You’ll know if there’s a creepy crawly about when you hear my daughter’s piercing scream, a trait she has inherited from her mother. I think I’ve got them all for tonight so we’ll see what’s what in the morning.

I spent a pleasant day at my parents’ house where we had a barbeque to celebrate my son’s 21st birthday. There was plenty of food and drink and all the family were there.

I worked last night (Saturday) and as usual it was a busy shift. The FA Cup final was played in Cardiff so there was a steady stream of West Ham United fans arriving back at Paddington Station from 9 o’clock onwards. I thought I was bound to get a job to East London but managed to stay fairly local all the evening. I did pick up a couple of extremely drunk fans but they were in an OK mood considering their team lost the cup. A few years ago I picked up four West Ham fans from Victoria and took them out to East Ham. They were each holding a case of beer and had already had a skin full. When we got to the other end they simply walked away without paying the £25 fare. So naturally I was weary about these two but it turned out OK.

I sat on the South Kensington rank a couple of times. The many restaurants in the area such as the Indian restaurant, Khan’s, provided a steady stream of work

Khan's, South Kensington

My daughter was home alone as the boys were out doing their own thing so I decided to cut the night short and keep her company. I rang her to ask if she fancied a bite to eat and we both settled on KFC. I use the KFC in Harrow Road and in the evenings it can be a rough place. There’s always an argument going on in there. I think the lady who’s always there working loves the confrontation. I’ve used this place for years and I’ve seen her have screaming matches with untold men and win. She gets called some terrible names at times but takes it all in her stride. You daren’t get involved as it could all turn against you in a flash. The bloke in there last night was arguing about the size of one of the pieces of chicken she had given him and how she had also skimped on the chips. I must admit it has happened to me a few times but I never say a word. She was reluctant to change the chicken so he told her to stick it in her pussy. She in turn told him to stick it up his arse and the exchange carried on like that for a few more seconds. After much name calling, insult hurling and yelling the situation resolved itself and we were all able to get on with our lives.

By the way, I forgot to put the lottery on so I’ll never know if that guy’s prediction would have come true. I had too much on so never had the opportunity to get to a shop.

Singing to myself

I haven’t posted for a couple of days because I’ve been in the process of turning my body clock around. I did two shifts yesterday but on the second stint the old eyelids started drooping and I had to go home before I crashed into something. And typically I was miles away when it happened so I had to drive home from Claygate in Surrey singing to myself to stay awake (not pretty!!). When my head hit the pillow I was out like a light and never woke till eight this morning. I decided not to waste the day and went straight to work at 8.30am after dropping my daughter at school. These fads never last long and I will probably be back on nights within a few days.

Now, the weather is really hotting up here and with this older cab I’m driving there’s no AC. I really miss it. I was sweltering in the saddle today and what’s more I actually did a twelve-hour shift, the first time for at least a year. I have to take my hat off to all the cabbies that do twelve hours a day every day; it’s dam hard work.

I’m compiling a growing list of faults that I will give to the garage when I go there on Monday to pay my weeks rent. I did a job out towards Heathrow today, which meant a trip down the M4 motorway. At 60 miles per hour both the wings on the cab were vibrating so bad I had to slow down to 50mph, it was actually pretty embarrassing but the passenger never said anything. Also there is a strong burning smell coming from somewhere probably the engine, which will need sorting ASAP. One of the passenger interior lights isn’t working and I have a couple of warning lights on my display that are constantly illuminated. One is telling me that the passenger door is not shut when it is and the other light is supposed to go out when I’m driving along to indicate that the doors are locked. It’s a child safety feature to stop kids trying to open the doors as we’re driving along. It wouldn’t do to have my child passengers falling out at 60mph now would it?
When I collected the cab it was the only one they had available at short notice but they will give me a better one as and when one becomes available.

I did nineteen jobs in total today. Most of them were just short hops around town but a couple of them had a bit of distance involved. The best of them was a couple of businessmen I picked up in The City. One went to Crawford Street near Baker Street and the other went out to Feltham near Heathrow which is how I discovered that the cab was a “Boneshaker”.
An Oriental bloke gave me a two-pound tip today. He told me to put it on the lottery, as he’s sure I will win on Saturday. I can be superstitious at times and will make sure I put his tip on the lottery and do five or ten pounds of my own as well. If you don’t see any blog updates in the next few days then I will probably be sunning myself on a beach somewhere with my winnings. It’s good to dream.

Today is my eldest son Danny’s 21st birthday. It just seems like yesterday that he was born and he has never given me a day’s trouble, apart from driving my cab into the kitchen wall that is!! That goes for all my kids, I’m proud of the way they’re all turning out. We’re having a barbeque in Danny’s honour at my parents’ house on Sunday so I won’t be at work. I’ll still have Saturday to write about so hopefully something interesting will occur. Until then…then.

Coming To Terms

I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that I don't own a cab anymore. It's great not to have to worry about anything cab-related as the garage take care of all that. I just pay my £180 every week and go to work (I still have to pay for diesel though). Unlike New York and other US cities I get to keep the cab with me 24/7. The front is slightly longer than my other cab as it's a different model and I wacked the post as I got on my drive last night, no damage, just a scuff mark on the bumper.

There's not really a lot to comment on as it was another short shift due to me going out around 10.30pm.
I did get one comment from an American asking me how come I was driving on the right instead of the left. I picked him up at the Savoy Hotel. It has a private approach road called Savoy Court and traffic enters it on the right side and is still on the right when they depart. It is the only road in London where this happens. This link will explain it a little better.

One little niggle I have with this job is the way people ask you how much a particular journey is going to cost. I generally tell them that it will be a metered fare and next they ask for an approximate figure. Some times I get it spot on other times I don't and some people try to hold you to the original figure quoted if it was cheaper.
This happened last night with a female passenger from Victoria Station to East Dulwich. I quoted her between £15 and £20. She wasted time trying to get money from 2 different ATM's. All the time the cab is waiting on the night rate the meter goes up pretty quick so by the time she got back in it was almost at £20 and we were still a couple of pounds away. She said "I thought you said it would be £15?". I replied "No I said it would be £15 to £20 and that wasn't including all the faffing about with the cashpoint". The job ended at £24 and she was "squealing like a pig" so just to shut her up I swallowed the £4 which I really shouldn't have done. Regular cab riders know how much fares go but there's another breed of cab rider who generally use minicabs which are an inferior mode of transport and often charge a lot less. I think she was one of those.

Well that's all I can manage for now as I need a nap before my shift.

A last look.

A Last View Of My Cab

I took this picture as I walked away from my cab for the last time.

I sold my cab yesterday and have gone back to renting. I had been toying with the idea for a few months. With renting I don’t have all the headaches of repair bills, new tyres and the biggest expense of all, the annual overhaul. Now I just pay my money every week and let the garage take the strain. Instead of the modern TXII I am now driving an older Fairway Driver but I found it much smoother over the bumps and just as fast.

I only did a half shift tonight as I had spent most of the day finalising the sale and having to go to a few different places. Once I sold the cab I had to take a cab to the place where my rental was. I used to rent from them before and when I arrived a few of the mechanics greeted me with “Welcome home!” which was quite touching.

The few jobs I did were pretty uneventful but the last guy I picked up from a casino looked a bit shell-shocked and said he’d just lost three grand. That’s a lot of money to lose in one go.

I picked up the next 2 episodes of the Sopranos and have just watched them. Episode 6 is hilarious, 7 was ok. I’ll have to wait a couple of weeks now for the next two, as they haven’t even come out in the States yet.

I’m dead tired and am going to bed but I just wanted to say about the cab.
Night Night.(Normal service will be resumed tomorrow night)

Season 6

It’s 10am on Sunday morning and I haven’t been to bed yet as I have been sitting with my two sons watching the first five episodes of The Sopranos Season 6. They haven’t come out here yet but someone I know is obtaining them from a third party and letting me watch them. I plan to go out in a few hours to buy some blank DVD-R’s to copy them before I have to return them.

I started late again last night at 10pm but there was loads of work going here there and everywhere. It had been raining all day so the air was chilly and damp, which I think drove people to take cabs instead of walk. Most of the jobs were average runs to and from nightclubs. My cab is licensed to take five people. Three on the back seat and two people facing backwards on pullout seats called, by most people, jump seats. Often, people ask if I can squeeze in a sixth person and most times I say yes but if another cab pulls up with me I say no as I have been called greedy by other cabbies for taking six. Tonight I wasn’t even asked, they just piled in on Tower Bridge and asked for Tottenham Court Road in the centre of town. 2 women and 4 men all in high spirits, all American. From what I could gather some of them had recently been to China and they were amazed at the influence Chairman Mao still has there. One of the conversations went something like this: (the guy was gay as I heard him refer to a boyfriend so imagine a gay American accent with this one) “I could not believe the way Chairman Mao still influences these people I mean they were like, “Chairman Mao said this and Chairman Mao said that” so I went to a gift shop and bought Chairman Mao fuckin ashtrays, Chairman Mao fuckin postcards, Chairman Mao fuckin ornaments. I even bought Chairman Mao fuckin Chop Sticks. I thought shit if it’s good enough for Chairman fuckin Mao it’s gotta be like fuckin cool man” The rest of the group were in stitches and I have to admit I was secretly laughing too. He was a very funny guy.

When those six got out there was another guy waiting to get in and we went back the way I had just come to Bethnal Green. When we got there he wanted a printed receipt but my cab hasn’t got a printer yet as I managed to by-pass the new law stating all cabs must have a printer. He was Eastern European and couldn’t understand why I never had a printer and all the other cabs he’d ever ridden in had one. The hand written receipts I give out were not acceptable by his boss but that was all I had. He kept on and on about printed receipts until I blew my stack and said “I ain’t got a fucking printer mate so how the fuck can I give you a printed receipt are you stupid or something?” He sat in the cab for a few minutes trying to absorb the information. In the end I turned the engine off and when I opened my door to get out he got out himself and started walking away and calling me names in Bosnian or something similar with plenty of hand gestures thrown in for good measure.

I made my way to Old Street as there are lots of clubs and bars there and soon had a nice ride westwards. About half a mile on the guy looked like he was about to throw up so I pulled straight over and he just made it in time. Onlookers jumped out of the way as he puked up all over the pavement. He produced a hanky, wiped his mouth and got back in. We carried on to Gloucester Road with out any further emissions.

Gloucester Road is a favourite stopping point for me because they have a late night Burger King, a 24-hour Tesco convenience store and a Bureau De Change where I can change up all the Dollars and Euros that I have accepted as payment for fares. There’s a special cab driver rate here and it’s open all night. I took advantage of being in the area to grab a Whopper with cheese meal with a coffee from the BK. After being approached by half a dozen would be passengers I drove a few hundreds yards round the corner and ate my meal in peace.






Back on duty, I drove past the nightclub/bar Eclipse in Old Brompton Road where 2 or 3 illegal minicab touts (unlicensed taxis) where trying to tempt people into their cars.

I was immediately flagged by five revellers wanting to go to Clifton Road by Warwick Avenue, close to home again. I often get jobs going towards home when I’m not ready to finish just yet but as long as I’ve taken a certain amount of money it can be very difficult to resist the temptation to call it a night. On this occasion I gave in.

Are all Aussies the same?

I started really late today (Friday night) as I had stayed in to watch the 1st leg of the Championship playoff between my team, Leeds United, and Preston North End. We were losing 1-0 when our American player Eddie Lewis scored an equaliser from a free kick. So it ended in a 1-1 draw and the 2nd leg will be played on Monday night. It will probably mean that I’ll be out late again but if we win and get through to the playoff final in Cardiff it will be worth it.

When I did manage to get out at 10.30 it was pretty busy out there. I made it all the way to Paddington before I got my first job, which was an Australian lady all the way to Stoke Newington. She never stopped complaining the whole way there about the cost and how it had never gone as much on the meter before etc. Now I’ve been doing this job for a while and a couple of things I’ve found with Australians are that they are tight with their money and also expect something for nothing. It may not be every Aussie but the vast majority will not part with one penny over the meter and in some cases ask for it to be rounded down. Why is that? On the “something for nothing” statement, I was flagged down by a group of Aussie guys wanting to go to a nightclub and after I’d stopped for them they asked me to wait while they went into a shop to stock up on gum and bottled water as do most clubbers. Naturally I put the meter on and when they came out and got in the meter had clicked up a few times. Well you should’ve heard them complain and kick up a fuss. I said to one guy “would you work for nothing?” It then developed in to a slagging match with me being called all the names under the sun and vice versa. So they ended up walking. But I’ve had similar sorts of run-ins with Aussies more than a couple of times and still ask the question “what makes them act like that?” Someone enlighten me please.

Traffic was light for the whole evening so I was able to whiz around everywhere. There was lot’s of police activity and I often had to pull over to allow them to pass by. One time they came through without sirens taking everyone by surprise and nearly caused a major accident.
After a burst of activity I ended up in Mayfair and decided to catch my breath by sitting on the rank at the London Hilton where I took a few snaps.

A couple came out and asked to be taken to Greenwich in southeast London. I haven’t been there for ages so it was a nice change to be motoring down the Old Kent Road. The couple were kissing and cuddling the whole way there and as we neared I had to interrupt them for final directions. The fare came to £27 and they gave me £30 in Scottish notes. To anyone planning to visit England, Scottish notes are legal tender so don’t think you’re being ripped off if given them in change. There are Bank of Scotland issue notes and also Clydesdale Bank notes both will have the word “Sterling” printed somewhere on them so that you can tell they are legal. The only reason I don’t like taking them is because if you try and give them back as change nobody wants them. I generally use them to pay for my diesel fuel because once the fuel is in the tank there’s not a lot they can do.

I worked until 3.30am. My final job started as two drops from Victoria Street to Paddington and then on to north London but one passenger convinced the other to get out at the first address which left me about 2 minutes from home. Considering I nearly never went out at all I had a decent night so was pleased I bothered.

Disrupted Beauty Sleep

I was happily in the land of nod around 1pm Wednesday when I got a call from my Mum. Her first words are always “Oh I didn’t wake you did I?” To be fair to her it’s impossible to tell if I will be awake or asleep at any given time as my lifestyle habits change from one week to the next. Since I have started posting regularly on this blog I tend to be up most of the night and get off to sleep as soon as my daughter’s gone to school around 8am. So in order to get my full beauty sleep I may still be in bed at 4pm. Anyway, my Mum rang to see if I could go up to their house as my Dad was having some sort of trouble with the computer and she was having car trouble. I got dressed and went up there straight away. On entering my Dad’s office at the top of the house I could see his computer screen and there were a million “My Computer” windows open. He told me he had tried for ages to close them but they never seemed to close. He tried restarting but they just came back. On closer inspection I deduced that his ancient 3-button mouse was causing the problem. Instead of a wheel his mouse has a middle button, which opens “My Computer” and it was stuck. I freed it up and showed him a quick way to shut all the windows (Alt + F4) and left him to continue with whatever he had to do.
My Mum’s problem was that she had been smelling petrol inside the car and the oil light was coming on intermittently. On lifting the bonnet I could see the problem with the petrol smell immediately. The entire air filter assembly, including various hoses had worked loose from the carburettor and was just hanging by a single hose as if ready to fall off at any moment. I put it back on, tightened the jubilee clip and reattached all the hoses and that was that. The oil needed topping up so I had to go and buy some, put some air and water in and the car was sound as a pound once again.

I went home via a supermarket, made us all some food and tried to grab an hours nap before going out to work. I got out the door by 8.30pm, way too late, and got half way down Maida Vale before I realised I never had my phone. I went back, couldn’t find it, someone had to ring it and it was buried under some clothes. Back out I went. I got a job in Maida Vale all the way to Golders Green and had a really interesting chat with an M.C.C. member (he had the tie on) who had just been to Lords Cricket Ground. I don’t think there was a game there so, judging by his demeanour; he was probably just propping up the bar. When we got to his house he gave me a £50 note and I couldn’t find my wallet to give him change so he had to go in and get some money. This meant I had to pass by my house yet again and get the wallet, as I needed the £5 notes I had in there.

A couple of jobs later and I found myself on the Eurostar rank at Waterloo. The couple I picked up asked to be taken to New Providence Wharf near Canary Wharf. They were quite chatty and asked about the weather, my taste in music, what I did for fun (write a blog!!) etc. The subject got on to where I go on holiday. When I said Spain they asked if I spoke the lingo and I said I did. I asked if they were Spanish and they said “Venimos del mismo pais que “La Mano de Dios”. So they were Argentinean and we got into a discussion about Maradonna. They of course said they knew him vaguely and spoke about his recent massive weight loss. I’d lost interest by then because I thought they were talking bollocks. Being on this side of town I took the opportunity to take a few snaps of London’s tallest building, No.1 Canada Square.

Back in town now and I picked up a drunk guy from the Dorchester Hotel. He immediately got on the phone for a heated discussion with someone and only paused for a second when I drove over a brand new hole in the road. I was driving around the Hyde Park Corner one-way system when the right side of the cab sank into an enormous pothole. These vehicles being top heavy, the cab tipped over a little, and I heard the guy’s head bang off the window. It sounded like it should’ve hurt him and I looked to see if he was rubbing his head but he just continued with his phone call and he never said a word when he got out.

From there I went straight to Victoria (no beggars at all today) and a gay guy came up to me to ask if I knew Chariots Gay Sauna. I said I only knew the one in the City but he didn’t want to go out that far. I did a Google search for “Taxi Stories” a couple of nights ago and found this page. So once you’ve read it you’ll see why I was able to suggest The Pleasuredome in Waterloo to him. Up until I read that page I didn’t know the place existed so the instance of him asking for somewhere I’ve only just found out about has repeated itself yet again.

Being a Wednesday night it was pretty slow out there. I had decided to start making my way home at around 1am. A last quick peek in St. James’s Street presented me with a fare going all the way to Walthamstow in North London. We had a clear run all the way there and after not speaking a word to each other the whole way she decides to pipe up with “Well done, that was super” then, seeing my satnav was on added “Did you know your way or are we on navigator?” I replied that we were on this navigator (tapping my head) and that the one stuck to my dash was just an AtoZ, which produced a titter and all of a sudden the conversation flowed albeit too late.

A nice run around the North Circular Road, then we hit a few tunnel closures, which forced all the traffic over in to the slip roads. I pulled up behind this Porsche Boxster and thought to myself “What’s the point of having a nice sporty car like that and it not being manual?”

Spaniards Inn

I got off to a good start tonight with a job from my road up to East Finchley. The guy had been playing tennis at the courts near my house and was weighed down with about four racquets and an enormous holdall. I tried to make small talk about tennis but I obviously didn’t know enough about the sport to hold my own so I decided to say no more. There was still a bit off daylight left as I came back through Hampstead Heath and I snapped this picture of the Spaniards Inn which is a very old and famous pub that goes back to the times of Dick Turpin.

The little building to the left was the toll keeper’s cottage and is a listed building, which cannot be demolished. The two-way road is so narrow here that during peak times the bottleneck causes horrendous tailbacks and is best avoided at all costs. I’ve passed this place a zillion times but only just noticed that the pub provides a “doggy wash” for, presumably, anyone who wants to wash the mud off their dog after a walk on the Heath.

My luck continued as I reached the roundabout after the Spaniards as I picked up a wealthy looking couple and took them to the Royal China restaurant in St. John’s Wood.

From there I started heading towards Paddington Station. It seemed that I was just missing out to the cab in front every time and I tried to hang back a bit to create my own luck. Sometimes it works and other times not. I made it to Paddington but couldn’t get on the back of the rank without fouling (I’ve already mentioned the cameras everywhere) so I thought I’d have more luck in Kensington. I cut through Hyde Park and clicked off a few more photos. Here’s one as I crossed the bridge over the Serpentine Lake.

The rank at South Kensington Station was also pretty full but I managed to squeeze onto the last spot. I waited a good twenty minutes there, took a few photos and then got a fare to, wait for it….drum roll… Sloane Avenue about a minutes drive away. I hate it when that happens. South Ken Station is on the Piccadilly Line from Heathrow Airport and people get the train most of the way home and take a cab from the rank then pull up outside their houses and it makes them look like they’ve splashed out on a cab to all the nosey neighbours. Or am I just being cynical?

South Kensington Rank

Next I headed over to Victoria. There was no sign of the regular beggar but instead there was another one I’d never seen before. I employed my evasion tactics with this guy and so did all the other cabbies and I took a snap of the guy as he contemplated his next move.

Another average job from Victoria and I really did start getting depressed. I love nothing better than a job I can get my teeth into and also because they pay better, but tonight was never gonna be my night so I struggled on as best I could doing whatever job was asked of me. Although short of my target I pulled in a respectable amount but it will mean a few hours during the day tomorrow (or later today)