Oh Sh**!!

It’s all happening here in London, again. 2 car bombs in the West End and one up in Glasgow. The fact that they failed to go off matters not. What does matter is that we’ve all got to be on the look out for these maniacs and suffer the repercussions that normally comes with these events such as a drop in business as tourists decide to give London a miss for another year. There’s no point asking why as we all know the answer. What does get me is that these people, for the most part are British citizens. They’ve chosen to settle here or have even been born here and have enjoyed the freedoms and benefits a country like ours provides. To go and do what they’re doing makes no sense. They haven’t suffered as a result of Britain’s foreign policy. It’s a mad mad mad world and it’s gonna get worse.

So, early on Sunday morning, in the midst of all the extra security at our airports, I drove my daughter and her grandparents to Gatwick Airport to catch a flight to Charlotte, North Carolina where after a three hour wait they would catch another plane to San Diego for a three week stay with my daughters mother. As it happened, it wasn’t too painful and they have since landed and been collected and even sampled the delights of a Denny’s diner. My father in law was amazed at the size of the steak he was served and I told him to expect more of the same wherever they ate as it’s a well-known fact that everything’s bigger and better in America.

I had some work done on the suspension of the cab last week. Ball joints, tracking, shocks and bushes and it’s still a heap of shit. Every seam and bump in the road can be felt, how nobody has complained so far is beyond me. Another problem it has is when under load and going uphill there is a strong smell of burning transmission fluid as it must be leaking onto the exhaust somewhere. I told them this and they changed the oil instead of trying to find the leak. Other than that it’s performing pretty well and earning me loads of money.

The Xeta is still not pumping out the work but as long as I can do at least £50 a day on it I’m happy. I was doing a London Underground job yesterday where you have to pick up and drop of between 1 and 8 people. The job I did was a three-person pickup and the first passenger was out before the other two got in. The second passenger got in at Gloucester Road and had to connect with another taxi in Acton. My Third passenger was late. In fact she never appeared at all and the one already in the cab was fretting about missing her connection. I got onto control and was told I’d be contacted once a few calls had been made to LUL (London Underground Limited). Fifteen minutes later, no passenger, no phone call and plenty of grief from the pretty one in the back. She’s trying to ring her supervisor on her phone but is also having crappy luck. It’s all starting to get stressful. Another fifteen minutes later and nothing. Ten minutes after that I’ve had enough. Don’t they realize we’re human and that we’ve got emotions? I shouldn’t really give a shit because I get my money whatever happens but these people we’re picking up and taking home have done their days work and have to hang around like cattle whilst incompetent arseholes figure out where the network has broken down. I call control trying not to “lose the rag”. “Any chance of someone letting me know what the hell’s going on?” “I beg your pardon?” comes the reply. There’s only one or two controllers in the office at night and this voice was new to me. “This is Delta x x at Earls Court Station. I rang almost forty minutes ago to inform you that my final passenger was late and now she’s forty minutes late and the other passenger I have is worried she’s going to miss her connection can somebody please sort this out quick before I explode!!!” The controller puts me on hold to some nice 70’s Soul tune; I think it may have been Luther or Lionel. She’s back on the line in less than 60 seconds and tells me to leave without the final passenger. That was a shame because the final passenger was going to Southall and it would mean that the job would end after the one in the back got out at Acton. Clutching at straws I asked the controller that if my passenger’s connection has gone can I make a job of it and take her home to Sudbury? “No we’re not authorized to do that she’ll have to contact LUL herself” “What a bunch of cunts” I thought to myself as I hung up the phone and gave the passenger the bad news. Needless to say we arrived at Bollo Lane in Acton and her connection was long gone which would then leave her stranded at 2am in a dark and dodgy area. She tried to ring her supervisor a few more times and looked ready to cry as she got no reply. Fuck it; I was finished anyway so I drove her home to Sudbury free of charge. She was extremely grateful and thanked me profusely. It was time for a good deed anyway so hopefully it will reflect in some good luck for me anytime soon. Here’s hoping. As I was making my way home the controller rang and asked me where I’d dropped the passenger as her connection was waiting for her. Oh Shit!!

Xeta

I seem to have found the secret to eternal wealth and happiness. Well it’s really no secret. I’ve always known that to get what you want you have to go out and earn it. From last Sunday I have been putting in some serious hours and reaping some serious rewards. I can’t say too much as a few of my readers hate it when I reveal specifics for fear of arousing the interest of the people that take notice of these things.

So without revealing too many details I have to tell you that last Sunday was my best day ever. I recently joined the Xeta radio service and have been doing account work and cash alike. One of their accounts is with the London Underground and from midnight 7 days a week we have to take all members of staff home to every corner of London and the Home Counties. I have done this sort of work whilst on other circuits and the account seems to follow me around. As a gentle re-introduction to my radio-working life I was allocated a job with six pickups and six drops. The cab only seats five so the sixth pickup would obviously have to be after at least one passenger has got out. The first pickup was at Victoria Station and the passenger was almost 20 minutes late in appearing causing a chain of complaints all down the line as everyone else wondered where the hell I’d got to. I should also say that it’s not a conventional radio circuit. I have an O2 XDA IIi PDA as my terminal and any communication with control is via mobile phone. Needless to say I was called a half dozen times asking me my present location and eta to pick up. The six pickups were Victoria, St James’s Park, Westminster, Embankment x2 and Barking and the drop offs were Mile End, Upton Park, Barking, Upminster Bridge, Upminster and finally Grays Station in Essex. My satnav and mapping equipment really came into it’s own here and I was glad for it. I’d started the day at 11.30am and by the time I’d dropped off at Grays Station it was 1.45am on Monday morning. I never got home till 2.30 so at 15 hours in the saddle I have to say that’s the longest I’ve worked…ever.

I also did a rare job out to Heathrow as the train service from Paddington was down. My fare was a young Pakistani guy worried that he’d miss his flight. He had three hours from point of pickup and it only took 30 minutes but he never stopped fretting the whole way. Then he asked me for some discount from the £51.80 fare so I knocked the £1.80 off the end. How generous am I?

I used to work the airport years ago but it’s been a while since I entered the feeder park where all the cabs queue up. The main reason I haven’t been there is because a Cab Tag needed to be purchased at a high cost and I have always been put off by this but seeing as I was having a good day I took the opportunity to buy one. The actual tag was free for first timers so I only had to put credit on it in order to enter the queue. The waiting time was minimal and I was allocated Terminal 1 as my point of pick up. The traffic back into the Terminal area was manic and to make matters worse I had it in my head that I was picking up at T3. As I arrived on the T3 rank I realized my mistake and had to pull off and drive all the way round again. I ended up with a local to the Thistle Heathrow and had to ask another cabbie where it was as I’d been out of the loop for too long. You’re given an hour to complete a local and then you can go straight back to the Terminal and hopefully a nice job out into the countryside or one back in to town. Mine went in to Piccadilly and straight back into the work.

Last Sunday was the 25th anniversary of our victory in the Falklands War of 1982 and there were celebrations in Horse Guards Parade. Veterans proudly displayed their medals and I was hoping to pick one up so that I could let him off the fare. I never managed to pick one up but my brother in law did and never charged the fare.

Since Monday I have been out continuously working 12 hour plus shifts. Inspite of all that hard work I once again owe 4 weeks cab rent but it should be paid by Monday. I have a list of faults I need them to look at, most importantly the suspension which is making some extremely weird noises. I also had to change another wheel recently as the tread was below the minimum limit allowed.

My holiday is now booked and paid for September the 10th. I now have to work towards that and make sure there is money to meet all bills while I’m away and that I have enough spending money. Roll on September.

BT Tower

What a pleasant week I’ve had!!!

During the last week I’ve been screamed at, insulted, reported and stoned. And I don’t mean stoned as in illegal substances either.

The screaming happened as I was taking a fare to South Kensington from St Johns Wood. She’d only given me the area and not the street name so as I approached her turning (Thurloe Street) I was unaware I had to take the left and drove straight past it. The scream of “left, left, left!!!!” could have curdled milk and poisoned you to death at the same time as it was both screechingly loud and venomous at the same time. I’m sorry but I only have one word for women like that: SLAGS. On the phone all the way, not paying attention, expecting you to be mind readers and then talking to you like shit. I should put a sign up saying something like “If you’re a slag then fuck off!!”

As you may be able to guess I’m feeling pretty belligerent at the moment, probably not the best time to do this post but what the hell.

The insults were thrown at me as I stopped for an American guy who could barely stand up on the corner of Kings Road and Limerston Street last night. I should’ve done what the three other cabs before me did and just drive past him but I always feel like I can handle most situations. So he gets in and slumps in the back seat.

Me: Where to mate?
Him: f^$@&^$$(incoherent babble)
Me: What?
Him: (Starting to close his eyes) c@&*p^%$”$£$ (more incoherent babble)
Me: I need an address (loudly)
Him: Dunno
Me: I can’t take you without an address.
Him: Drive (indicating forward)
Me: No I need an address otherwise you’ll have to get out.
Him: Fughhh Offf!!

I jumped straight out of the cab and ran round to the nearside, yanked open the door and told him “I’ll give you fuck off you cunt, out!!!!!” He starts eyeing me up to see if he fancies his chances then starts telling me to fuck off again. There was a restaurant full of diners eating al fresco right by where I stopped and they were all enjoying the show. I knew they’d all be witnesses should matters take a turn for the worst so I made sure I just kept control. “get out of the taxi now!!” “Fuck off” he responds. Nothing for it but the old make out you’re calling the cops routine. I get back into the cab and make like I’m dialing and then fake a whole conversation with the emergency services controller making sure he could hear me describing him as a “little bald fat yank wanker”. (No offence to any decent Americans out there but when you lose it things just come out the way they do). That did the trick and he started getting out of the cab. As he got out I said “why don’t you stick around and then you can tell the cops to fuck of as well” He hurled a final few insults at me and walked off towards Sloane Square. Some people.

The “reporting” if you could call it that was a few days ago. I started work around 8pm and made my way to the Paddington Taxi Rank. There were no cabs on it and there was a little kid around 10 years old on a bike weaving uncertainly on the empty road. I gave him a wide berth and waited at the lights. Next thing he pulls up alongside my open window and says that I nearly ran him over. He was just trying it on as I was nowhere near him. I told him to get lost and that he was trespassing on station property. He proceeded to write my number plate down on a scap of paper and declare that he was going to report me. 10 years old and he’s already behaving like a twat. This country is in deep shit!!

And now to the stoning. Driving south along Grays Inn Road. A black kid with a hooded top is standing in the centre of the road. As I pass he throws a handful of stones at me. Luckily the four windows were down as it was hot but unluckily I caught one in the face. The kid runs off laughing while I pull over to check in the mirror. A lump is developing nicely and strangely I feel no pain, just a numbness spreading across my temple. Why he did that to me I have no idea. He probably did it for a dare or to look big in front of his mates but it won’t be long before he kills someone. I really despair of what is happening in this country.

I need a break and am planning a trip to Spain in September. I can’t wait.

My name is not Chris.

Hello there, avid readers.
First and foremost, my name isn't Chris. If you read "Chris the trouble magnets" comments in my last post, Chris being the person I was writing about, you'll see he mentions my name or one of a few names I go by. To date I answer to at least four different names.

Now that we've got that cleared up i'll reply to a few comments.

Ted Martin: I had an idea I read about it on your blog. I'd love to be able to have a laptop with lots of attatchments and gizmos but there's no way I'd be able to have a stand for it in the area immediately to my left as that is where we put luggage, unlike cabs in the US where they have enormous trunks (we call them boots). So I guess i'll have to settle for the much smaller PDA and subscribe to an isp like T Mobile that has WiFi hotspots all over town. Love your blog. Keep it up.

Jo: Hi there sis. I love over nuked pasta. Not overcooked where its all soft but over nuked where its crispy or even chewy at the bottom of the container. They do some lovely fillings for baguettes in the Piccolo my favourite being barbeque chicken. I've been going there for practically the whole 17 years I've been a cabby and only ever heard of one case of someone I know dropping two stones in a few days because he caught salmonella from a dodgy chicken escalope. What was yer man thinking taking you there for a meal? You'dve had a better feed up at the taxi shelter in Warwick Avenue or the Royal Oak!!

Tomartin: Feel free to use any of my material as it's there for everyones enjoyment and use but just don't expect me to participate in anything as I don't have the time or inclination.

Cabhack: I read so many blogs when I have the time and often link to them from other sites that I forget where I read them. I enjoy all the cab blogs and many others too. I read yours all the time and enjoy your stories so consider yourself "Blogrolled".

If any other cabbies want me to blogroll them just let me know.

Over the last few days I have watched the whole of 24 season 6. Jack's the man.

Since my last post I have paid the £800 cab rent and am hoping to pay a single week in the next few days before it runs into two weeks again. They never said a word to me and secretly I think it suits them to have some of us pay late as it just gets put straight into a paypacket for one of the mechanics.

The only incident worth writing about happened last night. It was fairly quiet and I was driving along Oxford Street towards Marble Arch. At the traffic lights I had more or less made up my mind to call it a night when one of my backdoors opened and a very evidently gay 50 something got in and asked for Ealing. He started rambling on about having been touched up by a rugged unshaven type without his permission in a bar close by. I knew I'd be blogging it so started goading him to tell me more about it. He went on to describe the ettiquette involved in these places and how this guy seemed to ignore it. He said in cases like this you would have to slap them across the face and tell them, in no uncertain terms, to go away but as he was only slightly built and the offender was "massive" he felt scared. I think he mistook my interest as a sign that I wanted some sort of involvement with him as he then proceeded to "chat me up". I laughed inwardly and just humoured him. We got to talking about all sorts of things "gay related" and I think he thought he'd cracked it when I gave him the bad news that I was not a cock lover but a pussy lover. After a while he asked me to pull over in Uxbridge Road and proceeded to puke his guts up between the cab and the kerb. He felt much better and declared that none of it had landed in the cab, much to my relief. He carried on with the sales pitch of why I would love to take it up the arse and to nosh a bloke off but I'm glad to say that I'm still 100% hetero sexual as we speak. He puked up once more in Ealing Broadway and soon after we reached his house. He'd also been talking about his dog and me about mine so as a last resort he asked if I'd like to come in and see his doggie. I think not.

Check back soon

It always happens to Chris!

Tuesday’s shift started with me putting £30 diesel in the tank at the Texaco in Edgware Road. I shot round to Paddington and got my first job, a shortish one to Mayfair. Being the third cab I had to wait for the other two in front of me to load up and pull out. The front cab was loading about 5 passengers and shitloads of luggage so it was taking quite a while and everyone around me was getting impatient. I already had the meter running and from the £2.20 flagdrop it had increased to £3.40 when the lady in the back pipes up. “Do I have to pay for being stuck here?” Luckily she caught me on a good day and I’d fully intended to reset the meter before she spoke. I told her so and she calmed down. The front cab was still trying to get all the luggage in the cab but was making extremely slow progress. In the end I had to reverse out, as it was, by this time, all clear behind me.

Being a Tuesday, I never expect too much but this one was turning out to be a good one. Most of the jobs were under ten pounds but if you do enough of them in quick succession it makes for a great shift. I ranked up at South Kensington at least 5 or 6 times. When I sit on ranks I like to scan the area with my iPaq to see if I can lock onto any wireless networks. Lot’s of them come up but are nearly always secure. I managed to lock on to the Pelham Hotel signal but my browser defaulted to the hotel homepage and wouldn’t let me surf the net. I read on someone’s cab blog that they use a laptop with an internet connection that only costs them $60 per month for unlimited browsing. Is that possible? I’d like to do something like that here so if anyone has any suggestions drop me a line.

So whilst admiring the Pelham homepage a guy walks up and asks for Richmond. I love jobs out that way. He was on the hurry-up as his girlfriend had arrived on a train at Richmond station and was waiting out front for him. He asked me to step on it and that he’d see me ok at the end. We got there in about 15 minutes and she was there waiting. He said to keep the meter running as they were going on. The little forecourt at Richmond Station is very tight and I was sort of in everyone’s way so I hoped he’d hurry up. He seemed oblivious to my problem as he stood there chatting and kissing her. In the end I had to honk the horn and as nicely as possible tell him to get his arse in gear as it was getting stressful. Once back in I said “where too now?” “Back to South Kensington please driver” It doesn’t get any better than that.

Wednesday’s shift was totally uneventful apart from the fact that I stopped at the Mayfair Piccolo for dinner. Spaghetti Bolognese, Chicken Escalope, a buttered baguette, two homemade custard tarts and a large latte all lovingly prepaired for me by Tina. I sat on the Intercontinental rank along with a few other dining cabbies and felt thoroughly bloated after eating all that. Although it was uneventful I still managed to take £8 more than Tuesday.

I never slept a wink on Wednesday night as I had a few things on my mind. I had to go for my annual retinal screening this afternoon and hopefully they won’t find any problems with my eyes. Michael came with me and after the screening we went to the café in Kensal Rise for lunch. I had Chicken Curry rice and chips and Michael had Spag Bol. I went home after that and got at least four hours sleep. When I got up there was no one at home so I had to ring around to see what everyone was doing.

I was at work by 8.05 and went straight to Paddington where my first job took me down to Hammersmith. After a few more jobs I got a call from my cabbie mate Chris. He normally works days but has been doing a lot of work on his garden and occasionally comes out to play at night. Whenever Chris is out in the evenings the chances of some sort of occurrence happening are greatly increased because he is the type of person that that sort of stuff happens to. Over the years he has had to call the police out on several occasions because of passengers pulling some shit or other on him. Tonight he picked up two people heading towards West Hampstead. The guy got out first and left the extremely drunk woman to go a further mile up the road. He was on the phone to me at the time and I heard him call through the partition to wake the lady up. It took several attempts by him for her to realize she was on planet Earth and she eventually woke up. I heard Chris tell her the price, which was around £15. As it was getting stressful he said he’d call me back. When he did he said that she’d had no money on her. She wanted to go into the house to get it and when Chris asked for some collateral she refused and called him a tosser. Wrong thing to say. Doors locked, next stop Fortune Green Police Station. He’d parked outside the Police Station and, reluctant to leave the cab unattended lest she get away he attempted to ring those inside. All they had to do was come outside and sort it out but they kept him waiting ten minutes. Chris flagged another cabbie and asked him to go inside and see what was keeping them. They eventually came out and mediated. She agreed to let Chris hold her phone whilst she went indoors to find some money. She came back out penniless and they had to drive back to West Hampstead to the Barclays. The fare had increased from £15 to just under £30 and he said she had tried to give him the £30 plus an extra £10 for his troubles but Chris refused the extra money (He’s funny like that ain’t ya Chris?) I would’ve took the money and then slagged her off for calling me a tosser but that’s just me. Thankfully these occurrences don’t happen too often but I suppose it makes for good blogging fodder when they do.

So whilst Chris was having fun trying to get paid I was quietly going about my business of driving hither and thither for maximum returns. A nice little five job sequence happened for me during the above period. Oxford Street to Waterloo, Waterloo to Bermondsey, London Bridge to Clapton, Shoreditch to Greenwhich, back through the Blackwall Tunnel and up onto Canary Wharf where I was tested for explosives by the keen security guards. Passing the test (I’m no Al-Qaeda) I trapped a job 100 yards short of the rank all the way to Lavender Hill. £118 is what I netted for that little burst and after a really tough week I finally have enough to pay my cab garage the £800 tomorrow. I’ll be glad to get that out of the way yet again and I’m sure they’ll be glad to see me. On my last visit there I had asked them to ring me if the money wasn’t paid after two weeks but I never received the call. Well it’s hard to receive calls if your phone’s switched off!!
Check back soon.

Well done Mike!!

Since my last post I have managed to watch the final episode or season finale of Heroes and have also managed to cram in the whole first season of Jericho, which I found extremely moving and thought provoking. Anyone agree?

Also on the home front my son Michael and me entered an annual darts competition at our local social club. We both beat off stiff competition and met each other in the final, which my son won. Well done Mike. It was his first solo effort and it gave him a great lift after what has been a depressing few weeks of job hunting. Hopefully his high spirits will continue into the next few weeks and he manages to find himself a job.

I’m just about there with the cab rent (£800) and it should be paid by Wednesday or Thursday at the latest.

It has rained continuously here for the best part of the whole of last week. Fantastic for business but you have to put up with all the moans and complaints from the passengers.

The Chelsea Flower Show has been on this last week providing endless work well into the evening. I ranked up at the Bullring entrance on Thursday and managed to snag a job out to a hotel next to Windsor Castle.

I came out to work at 7.20 pm on Saturday evening and trapped immediately on Maida Vale. It went down to Victoria Embankment. From there I headed for Victoria Station and as I arrived I could see it was moving quick. The beggar had positioned himself at the head of the rank and was trying to ponce money off all the drivers as per usual but also as per usual he got SFA from me. A young Italian couple approached me with a bit of paper. I don’t know what it is about bits of paper that gets me all excited, probably the thought that I could be doing a job to somewhere remote and expensive. This piece of paper had the name of a hotel out in Woodford Bridge, a very nice ride. I tried to explain that it was far away and told them how much it would be. They ummed and ahhhd and eventually said yes. They’d booked a cheap weekend break on the Internet and hadn’t bothered to check how far from the center of London the hotel was, a common mistake some tourists make. To add insult to injury the nearest underground station was a fair old schlep from the hotel which didn’t please them none either.

Back in town the work was relentless for a Saturday night. A couple of lookers approached me on the South Kensington rank and asked how much to take them to Inferno’s in Clapham. I quoted “the best part of twenty quid” to which they said, “Could you call it fifteen because we’re lovely?” “Lovely don’t pay the bills” I retorted and got called a miserable old sod for my trouble.

Sunday was mega. By rights it should’ve been quiet as it was a bank holiday weekend but I suppose people were taking advantage that they never had work the next day and decided to go out instead. Clubs that would normally be closed were open and doing a roaring trade.

It was raining pretty hard as I made my way around Berkeley Square. As I exited onto Bruton Street I was flagged by a soaking wet member of staff from Griegs Grill in Bruton Place. She said she’d been standing there for ages waiting for a cab for a couple of Australian customers but cabs were a scarce commodity at that time. I said she’d be well tipped for her efforts and drove her back round to the restaurant. As she got out the customers were impatiently waiting for their cab and never even thanked her, let alone tip her, for what she just had to endure to get them the cab. I almost said something to them as I drove them to the Basil Hotel but thought better of it as it was none of my business. Needless to say I got SFA tip wise either but I’d already expected that.

I dropped them off and decided it was time for my favourite Chinese in Battersea. I haven’t been there for a few weeks so my mouth was watering at the thought of it. I rang my order through and was there in ten minutes. I noticed the jovial chef wasn’t there and hoped the food would still taste the same. It never and I was hugely disappointed. What must one chef do different to change the taste so much?

Today’s shift saw me do my first six jobs from Paddington. 1st job Paddington to Eden Park Hotel £5. 2nd job Paddington to Goldhurst Terrace £17. 3rd job Paddington to Talbot Road £6.20. 4th job. Paddington to The Landmark £8. 5th job Paddington to Crawford Street £7.20 and finally a decent 6th job from Paddington to the new Hilton Hotel at South Quay in the Docklands for £32.

A while later I dropped of at the Ibis Euston when a couple of guys got in and declared that they’d just been to Wembley to watch the football. Thinking they were supporters of the winning team I congratulated them only to be asked if I was taking the piss. All those midland accents sound the same to me so I countered with “you think you’ve got problems, I support Leeds”. They had a good laugh at that and by the time I dropped them at Leicester Square to drown their sorrows we were all best mates.

The shift finished with a flurry of 4 jobs starting with a Maida Vale to Westbourne Terrace, a Bayswater to Knightsbridge, a Knightsbridge to Barons Court Station and finally as I was heading home, a snogging pair of blokes from Bromptons (gay club) to Queens Park (no joke), which happens to be, a stone’s throw from home.
All in all, a good shift. Lets hope for more of the same over the coming days.
Check back soon.

Heroes

I’ve had a busy week, all things considered.

After regularly reading that Wil at Paradise Driver loves the program “Heroes” I decided to scan the net for a site that would allow me to watch them for myself. I found a great site but won’t name it as the last time I mentioned a site it got taken down. So after a couple of episodes I was hooked and finally managed to catch up with everyone else by watching episode 22 before I went to work today. Great show. I’ve also been catching up on all the other ones I watch such as Lost, Smallville and CSI so there hasn’t been much time to blog after work. Oh I also went with my daughter to watch Spiderman 3. Whilst other people I have spoken too never enjoyed it I thought it was great and the special effects excellent.

You may recall me mentioning about the immobilisers on these cabs (TXI’s only) Well I had mine disabled recently and it’s been great just being able to jump in and start the engine without all the button pressing malarkey. Whilst sat on the Holborn Viaduct Rank (a notorious immobiliser dead zone) a cabby sauntered over to me and asked if I knew about immobilisers. I pre-empted him and told him his problem before he told me it, I demonstrated how mine wouldn’t work either (the central locking still works with the same remote control but not in a dead zone) and asked if he knew the four-digit code to enter on the keypad under the visor. He had a code but it never worked. I told him that he’d have to move the cab away from the dead zone by pushing and offered to help. We pushed it off the rank and across the roundabout into Charterhouse Street. He pulled up a hundred yards away and tried the remote…..nothing. I tried…..nothing. Oh and by the way, I was breathing out of my arse at this point after that marathon cab push. We were another hundred yards from the rank in Farringdon Street so I said I’d push him there and that would be it for me, he was on his own. We had to wait a few light changes for a clear path and eventually I got him onto the rank. My ticker was going ten to the dozen and I felt odd. The cab never started and I left him to it. I never heard him say thanks but he probably did. It took me ten minutes to walk back to my cab and another THIRTY before I felt well enough to carry on working. I must get in shape.

Later that night I was driving past the coach station when a man hailed me and asked if I would take the old man standing next to him down to Lewisham. He looked like a “down and out” so I asked if he had any money on him. He said he had plenty money so I accepted. To cut a long story short he said he wanted Mayow Road. After checking on my digital a to z I discovered it was nowhere near Lewisham and a lot closer to Forest Hill. By going the Lewisham way the fare would be at least ten pounds dearer. Inevitably the old fella started piping up. I’d already made up my mind that I would knock the tenner off even though I was quite within my rights to ask for it. We arrived at his address and I told him to call it thirty instead of the forty on the meter. He pulled out a twenty and said “that’s all I’ve got”. After the event I thought I shouldn’t of, but at the time I had to unleash the pent up anger so I slagged him off something rotten. He was trying to get away from me but I followed him as he tried to get away from me and called him all the bastards and cunts under the sun. I still never got my money but I felt better. This job is unique. If you enter a shop and buy something you pay first. In this job you pay at the end so if there’s no money you’re out of pocket and left with two options. You call the police or you take it into your own hands. There is no way I would ever hit anyone let alone an old man but I’m also not going to let anyone take me for a mug so all in all I felt vindicated. If you’ve never done this type of work then don’t pipe up with venomous comments, as you’ve got no idea how it feels to work for nothing.

I drove back to Victoria and the next fare asked how much it would be to Islington and then onto Willesden Green. I started off by saying around thirty but decided it would be more. He’d already turned away from me as I said it would be nearer to forty. They got in and he directed me to Newington Green, six to seven pounds past Islington. He gets out, (meter is on £26) gives me thirty and says “Make sure she gets home safe”. I say “it’s gonna be more than this mate” He says “you said thirty” Blah blah blah. After being knocked by the old fella for twenty pounds then this twat not hearing me say forty at Victoria I blew my stack. Plenty of F’s and C’s issuing from my mouth as he tried to calm me down. The upshot was that she got out with him and I got to keep the thirty. I would rather of taken her to Willesden Green as it took me home but it was probably better that I never.

My mate Chris rang me as I slept in on Friday lunchtime to ask if I wanted to take a Spanish lady to the airport as he had other plans. He put her on the phone and I spoke in Spanish and arranged to collect her from the new Haymarket Hotel (entrance in Suffolk Place chaps). The cab was in dire need of a wash so I got up and hosed it down on my drive. He’d also said that Haymarket and the surrounding streets were in gridlock so I should get there early. I got there 20 minutes early and she emerged five minutes after the arranged time. I tried to make conversation with her and managed to prise out of her that she lived in Pollensa in Mallorca in the Balearic Islands. I mentioned that my sister lived there but found her to be, quite frankly, what I would call a miserable cow. She perked up a little as a motorized settee passed us on the M4 and asked me questions about it. It basically looked like a standard household settee with a man sitting on it but bombing along a very fast road. I was as amazed as her. I’ve seen motorized novelty vehicles such as the settee and a bed driving around town but have never seen them on the motorway. This settee must have been doing at least 60 mph and looked totally unsuitable, security-wise, to be on such a dangerous road. I would have loved to get a photo of it but it all happened so fast. We arrived at Heathrow and she promised to use me the next time she was in town but to be honest these pre-arranged pick-ups are more trouble than they’re worth so I probably won’t bother.

Tonight’s shift was extremely busy mainly due to the fact that today was FA Cup Final day. The first one at the newly re-built Wembley Stadium. Most cabbies had opted for the night off which meant loads of work for the rest of us out there. The Pride of Paddington pub close to the station was bursting at the seams as I passed it. All you could see was Chelsea fans celebrating their teams’ victory by singing and dancing on the tables. The pub usually caters for the many tourists that stay at the surrounding hotels but they were nowhere to be seen tonight as that sort of rowdy behaviour can be quite intimidating to those not used to it.

I haven’t been to the cab garage for two weeks and I’ve been driving around with a blown headlight for the past few days. The other one decided to pack up as well so I pulled into the garage at Clipstone street to buy two bulbs. £5 each!!!! Robbing bastards.

You’ll remember previous posts where I described how hard it can be to change head light bulbs on the TX’s due to the awkward design but the three years of owning my own TXII proved invaluable tonight and I had both the bulbs fitted within fifteen minutes.

One job followed another wherever I went and strangely for a Saturday night there were no losers about. Or so I thought as I made my way towards NHG, that’s Notting Hill gate to you. A Polish type guy (don’t quote me on that) flagged me at the bus stop outside McDonalds and said “Hello Mike, how much for to go to Homchurch please?” “You mean Hornchurch?” I corrected. “No Homchurch near Upminster” He did mean Hornchurch near Upminster and there were three other dodgy looking guys getting nearer to the cab by the second. My Spidey Sense was tingling and after the other night (see above) there was no way I was going to ignore my gut feeling. “I’m not going to Hornchurch” says me. “Why not” says he sounding positively menacing. The others had all gathered around him and were checking the contents of my drivers compartment for anything snatchable. “Because it’s too far and I’m almost finished” I could’ve gone on to explain that I’m not obliged to take anyone over 12 miles if I don’t want to but somehow I think that explanation would have been lost on him so I did the next best thing and said “Be lucky” and drove away leaving the four of them standing there staring dumbly. A few yards along I pulled up for a nice couple wanting to go to West Hampstead. “You’ll do for me” I thought. I was indoors within 25 minutes and not out in the wilds of Essex dead in the water.

Check back soon.

Dodgy KitKat?

I did manage to get out on Monday but only for two jobs. There was some sort of rally/march happening in town, something to do with immigrants wanting more rights, which caused most of the roads in and around Trafalgar Square to be closed off. This always causes major headaches for us as it can be difficult convincing a passenger that a major detour will be needed to avoid becoming gridlocked. Some of them are convinced that you are just trying to get more money out of them.

Of the two jobs I did manage to do one of them took me from Paddington Station out to Bow, a nice ride at any time, which metered £32. On the way back via Whitechapel Road, always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary to photograph, I pictured a Police car taking a piggy back ride followed by his buddy. The Gherkin is conspicuous in the background.

Whitechapel Road (WestBound)

So due to the rally/march I decided to go home and resume later on. That never happened. I went with Michael for a pub lunch in Cricklewood and then paid a much overdue visit to my parents. Two of my sisters and my brother decided to pay a visit also so together with their kids there were 11 of us visiting in all. I was still counting on going back to work later when my cabby mate rang to ask if I’d like to go up to his house with Michael to watch the Charlton V Spurs match on his 50” plasma. He has Sky HD and I couldn’t believe the picture quality. We left there around 10pm and that was the conclusion of the May Day Bank Holiday.

With practically three whole days off behind me it was important to get an early start on Tuesday. I dropped my daughter off at school and went straight in to town. After a few jobs I was gagging for a coffee so I went to the Prêt a Manger in Horseferry road. Apart from coffee and sandwiches they also do a selection of hot wraps which I have taken a shine to lately. I had the chicken and jalapeno peppers wrap together with a packet of parsnip crisps and my extra shot latte. I sat outside the new Home Office munching away and contemplating my life. No sooner had I finished than I was approached by a suit asking to go to Kings Cross Station. Once I’d dropped him off I drove around the block for a sniff on the ranks. There were a few cabs on the St Pancras rank so I opted for the Kings Cross rank instead.

St Pancras

It was quite a pleasant morning back at work and only one job got a bit stressfull traffic-wise. I picked a guy up in Bolton Street who asked for St Pauls. I opted to go left, through Piccadilly, Trafalgar Square, The Strand and Fleet Street. Big mistake. The 10 minute journey took 40 and he was one of these passengers that never say anything but you could feel by his body language that he was thinking “why has this c*** taken me this way?” I probably would’ve been thinking the same thing. I should’ve gone right and down towards the river, Puddle Dock and Queen Victoria Street. You live and learn.

I went home after that job as I hadn’t intended to work the whole way through. After eating dinner with the kids I took a nap and grudgingly came back out at 10pm.
I made it all the way to the Hilton on Park Lane before I trapped. A suited and booted couple to Charing Cross Station. Considering it was now around 10.30pm and I was in Central London there wasn’t much work about. I drove out of the West End and ended up in South Kensington. As I came round the one-way system heading for the rank I was flagged by a couple and asked to take them to Dancer Road in Fulham. The bloke was well pissed and kept snapping at the lady who just sat in silence. When they got out I could see that she’d been quietly crying as her faced was streaked with tears and her make-up was all smudged. She stormed off towards the house as the bloke paid me muttering “Women!!” under his breath.

I drove to the Esso on Kings Road as I needed diesel and bought myself a plain chocolate KitKat. No sooner had I eaten it than I felt sick. Proper sick like I was going to vomit.
Whilst sitting at the lights at Gunter Grove I decided to go home. Just as the lights are about to change a Chinese couple come from nowhere and ask for LCA (London City Airport) It’s like 1am now and I’m feeling queasy, do I do it? At £45 I’d be a fool not to but how I never puked is a mystery. I had the “mouth filling with saliva” thing the whole way there. They never wanted the airport itself, they just used it as a marker and actually went a few minutes past it on Albert Road. On any other night that would’ve been an enjoyable ride. I drove straight home from there via the North Circular Road and luckily the sickness feeling had more or less passed by then. Thank God.
Catch you later.

Freaky Fridays

Friday was a good night for me. I generally spend most of each and every Friday evening avoiding the West End like the plague due to the amount of undesirables that frequent it. In full swing, the West End can be like a labyrinth that has no way out, even for the experienced cabbie. This is due to people being under the impression that they’re going to find a nice little parking space with their name on it. Another thing people do is to wait for a parking space. If they see someone walking towards their car they’ll simple put their hazard lights on, hold everything up behind them and wait the 2,3 or 4 minutes it might take these people to enter their car, put their seatbelts on, check their faces in the mirror and maybe even add a little make up and eventually drive off. The drivers who’ve been patiently waiting are then treated to a painful show of how not to park whilst they watch these people, the larger percent of who are female (sorry ladies but the myth is true that most of you can’t park, let alone drive), try and line their cars up and back in to the recently vacated space. It’s a phenomenon that people have got used to as no one ever seems to honk the horn and may well have to repeat the whole procedure again in the next few seconds. Places like Soho Square and Wardour Street are notorious for this and best avoided unless absolutely necessary.

Once you have fought your way out of the West End the chances are that within two jobs you’ll be headed right back into the thick of it. I always inwardly groan but never refuse. I do try and put the passenger off by saying that the traffic is the worst I’ve ever seen it but they never seem to take my advice until we’re at a standstill in the last third of Piccadilly at which point they bale out leaving you stuck and unable to earn another penny until you’re out of it.

So, given all of the above I always like to try and stay in and around the Kensington area where the fares are of a better class and the traffic a hell of a lot lighter. I’ve found a lot of the people who are on a night out in Kensington will be from west or south west London. The bulk of the hailed fares will end up in places like Clapham, Putney, Wimbledon, Battersea and occasionally way out west into the countryside.

I did a nice job from the Crabshack in Kings Road out to Twickenham and Strawberry Hill. These four young ladies were well oiled and it didn’t take long for the sexual innuendo to start flying and the giggling fits to follow. A few years ago I would have felt uncomfortable at being included in these sorts of antics but I just take it in my stride now and give a little back without going over the top. The upshot of it all was that two of the young ladies flashed their boobs at me almost causing me to have an accident.

As I drove away from the drop in Strawberry Hill I headed back towards Twickenham High Street. My light is always off as a hail there will generally take you further out into the unknown. Whilst waiting at the traffic lights another couple of young ladies asked if I would mind going to Notting Hill. Would I mind? It’s unheard of but no I wouldn’t mind and get your sweet little arses in the cab. These sort of opportunities are very few and far between but when they happen they could be describes as better than…….sex!!

Notting Hill is always buzzing, day or night so the work just flowed for most of the evening.

I went to the taxi drivers restaurant at the Royal Oak as I was short on pound coins and took the opportunity to grab a ham salad sandwich and a coffee. With the full intention of resuming work after my snack I got talking to a few people down there and eventually called it a night instead.

Saturday and Sunday just never happened for me. I couldn’t muster up any enthusiasm. Today, Monday, is the Mayday Bank Holiday and it should be pretty busy all day plus the meters are on rate three all day which is always a great help.

Here's a joke for your enjoyment. Check back soon.

Forging Ahead

I don’t know what all the fuss was about. I can be my own worst enemy at times. All the problems I have been bleating about these last few weeks are now behind me and the cab is in tip top condition (barring the gearbox problem).

I took my daughter to school on Wednesday morning and then went straight to work. After four jobs and forty quid I dropped off at Seven Sisters Road and drove straight round to M&O. The girl behind the jump had to get a second opinion on whether my garage was “OK”. That means are all the accounts up to date with no outstanding money owed. After a few minutes one of her colleagues confirmed the garage was a good’un and promptly dispatched a worker to come outside and upgrade the tariff on the meter. I think he was waiting for a tip but I’m fed up of tipping everyone so I just said thanks, got in and drove away. Next stop was M.A.M Auto Electricians in the next street. I asked them to disable the immobilizer that has been giving me problems in certain parts of London and also to re-earth the For Hire sign that has been flickering of late. They told me to come back in an hour so I bought a paper and went to a nearby greasy spoon and had a Full English Breakfast. When I returned to pick the cab up I tested everything was as it should be and then put a tenner in the tip box in the office which meant that they got M&O’s tip as well as I had the hump earlier.

I drove home, testing the meter on the way, and found it went slower not faster, probably just me being paranoid. I had a good sleep and never surfaced till 6. Michael, still keen to do the cooking, went shopping for me and cooked Penne pasta with a sun dried tomato stir in sauce and meat-wise they had turkey escalopes and/or chicken kievs. I could get used to not having to cook anymore, it’s one thing less to worry about.

I was at work by 6.30pm and my first job from Paddington took me down towards Camberwell. On the way back in to town I juiced up at the Esso in Wandsworth Road. I was queuing behind a black guy and the guy behind the counter was a white South African, pretty unusual in petrol stations as the bulk of the counter assistants tend to be Asians. Well this guy was being all polite and asking the black guy if he needed anything else and to have a nice day and all that sort of stuff and generally trying too hard when the black guy turned round, looked at me and let off one of those long teeth-kisses. I just burst out laughing which set off the black guy as well. You get so used to ignorant or uninterested petrol station assistants that anything out of the ordinary take a little getting used to. When my turn came to pay I just plonked the twenty on the counter and hurried out before the South African had a chance to try his routine on me.

A few jobs later I was driving past The Swan in Bayswater Road when three Americans flagged me down and asked to go somewhere famous. “What do you mean somewhere famous?” I asked. “Somewhere where we can tell folks back home that we’ve been to, like a famous pub or something” I hate being put on the spot but famous pubs we have plenty of. There’s always half a dozen listed in most tourist guides and these always include The Red Lion, The Grenadier, The Antelope and the Duke of Wellington. They liked the sound of the first one so that’s where I dropped them and received a five pound tip for my efforts.

Todays (Thursday) shift was also in two parts and was probably as busy as yesterday if not busier. The difference being that I came home and went for a sleep and decided to give Michael a break from cooking so we had a Chinese take away instead of a cooked meal. I then went back to bed instead of going straight back out. I finally dragged myself out at 10.20pm and headed straight for Paddington. The best job of the night was a guy who flagged me down in Eaton Gate and exclaimed “I’m fucking starving mate, where can I get KFC?” It was five to twelve and touch and go whether his craving would be satisfied but I headed for Gloucester Road and hoped for the best. As we arrived the staff were just closing up and my guy jumped out and pleaded with them to let him in. No dice. He had to settle for the Burger King next door and came back over to ask me if I wanted a burger. I did but don’t like being bought them by my passengers so declined. I once accepted an offer from a passenger and we sat in the back of the cab eating McD’s and listenening to all of his drunken ramblings, but at least the meter was running. So after my passenger came back from the burger king I drove him back to Chester Row and he gave me £20 which included a good tip.

It is now 7.50am Friday morning and I still haven’t been to bed. I have to drive my eldest son Danny down to Putney to collect his first paycheck and then over to Notting Hill Gate to cash it and then to his bank to put some money in to cover his next round of bills.
It’s just as well I don’t have to do a morning stint today so I should be home and in bed by around Midday.

Catch you all later.

Doing an “Oasis”

And so, after weeks of apathy, lethargy or call it what you will, I finally came to a decision to do an “Oasis”.
It’s another one of those words that only me and a select few of my cabby mates use as part of our own language. Only we know that “doing an Arnie” means to return back into the work zone instead of going home after having completed a job that takes you some of the way towards home. The “Arnie” bit referring to Schwarzenegger’s catchphrase “I’ll be back”. So, only we know that an “Oasis” means that after weeks and months of failed attempts at getting one’s life into some sort of order an “Oasis” has to be initiated. Oasis being a British rock band with a single called “The Masterplan”. Get it? It generally applies to me as most of my mates are “caked up” and have fairly smooth running lives. Invariably my masterplans always peter out after a week or two but it never hurts to start another one when the need arises.

So I awoke this Tuesday morning, took my daughter to school, did a few jobs and ended up in North London a few hundred yards from my garage and decided they’d waited long enough for the cab rent. The owner and the manager were both in the make-shift office and, as usual, greeted me as if nothing was wrong. Maybe they genuinely don’t mind their drivers paying them one and two months late, I don’t know, but they’d never let on they were bothered. As I handed over the wad of notes to Jim he said “Fuck me, how many weeks do you owe?” As if he didn’t know. I made an arrangement with him that if it got to the second week and he hadn’t heard from me he could ring me up and call me a few names, that should be a big help towards stop me falling behind in the future.

So with the cab rent up to date I told them of the faults that had been accumulating over the last few weeks and they got to work on the cab immediately. The overheating problem, according to them, was due to a faulty water pump which was duly replaced. For good measure they also changed the thermostat and several hoses and when I was working the cab this evening it was great to see the needle on the temperature gauge on the dashboard reading normal.
Next they finally fixed my broken speedometer. I’d had a new cable fitted a few months back but apparently it was the wrong cable and kept slipping out of the back of the clock. Now the needle moves up and down smoothly and reflects the true speeds the cab does.
As the mechanic brought the cab to the garage entrance for me to leave he yanked up the handbrake and the cable snapped. No spare cable was available in the stores so I had to wait for one to be delivered from Mann & Overton which took over an hour.
I’d arrived at the garage at 9.30am and finally left at 3pm. The early start had already ruined my day so I decided to head straight for home via the supermarket and bed.

When I got home my son wanted me to teach him how to cook a roast dinner as he has now decided he wants to become a chef. Bleary eyed and dog tired I instructed him on the basics and left him to it. After a few hours of instruction and napping in the armchair my son announced that dinner was ready and we sat down to eat a very tasty roast chicken with roast potatoes, vegetables, stuffing, Yorkshire pudding (we have them with all roast meats) and gravy. I went straight to my bed after eating all that and never surfaced till 11pm.
Feeling that it would be a waste of an evening if I did nothing, I went out to work for a few hours. I managed seven jobs in all and managed to meter just over £100, which wasn’t too bad. The best job was from Victoria Station over to Docklands for £27.80. On the way back from there I stopped at the Texaco in The Highway to put some juice in and saw a bucket and sponge next to the pump. The back of the cab was rotten so I grabbed the sponge and started washing the boot lid. There must have been too much detergent in the water as it all foamed up and the more I wiped it the more foam was created. In the end I had to drive the cab over to the tap and hose it all down. I never had a leather to dry it so now that the wind has dried it it looks ten times worse, I’ll have to do a proper job tomorrow.

I also informed my garage that I had missed the tariff increase and they informed me that I could have gotten it done at any time by simply driving round to the meter company in Brewery Road, Islington. I’ll be going there first thing in the morning.

Check back soon.

Steamed Up!!

Well it finally happened. After years of mismanagement, has-been players coming and going and bleeding the club dry and the total lack of any manager being able to make us play good football, bar the shouting, Leeds United, the football team I have supported for 35 years are now a League One team. For those of you not in the know that’s not the top division, that’s the third division, a place we’ve never been to before. “Disgusted”, “gutted”, “heart broken” are just a few words that spring to mind but I suppose compared to the worlds larger problems it’s not the end of the world. We’ll be back….one day.

So,“Where have you been” I hear some of you ask? Very busy, very ill (just for a few days) very pissed off, feeling like the world owes me a living, ducking and diving, avoiding my garage the list is endless.

Let’s start with “Avoiding my garage”. Yes it’s back up to £800, the amount owed, yet again. I promised myself I wouldn’t put myself through that again but I have. I actually attempted to pay them today at 8am this morning (Saturday) but they must have stopped opening for those few hours of a Saturday morning because the boss was saying business was bad the last time I spoke to him. Apart from renting cabs out they also rely on private work to stay in business and that work has been thin on the ground apparently. So after not being able to sleep on Friday night because of the anxiety I felt, I wasn’t able to pay them today which in turn messed up my whole Saturday, then my team got relegated (as good as but there’s a glimmer of hope, Bob Hope and No Hope that is) so I stayed home on the busiest night of the week to catch up with stuff, including this blog.

I have also missed the meter upgrade that all my colleagues have been enjoying for the last few weeks. That means I’m earning two or three pounds less per job on average if the job was say £20 or more. I’ll probably have to go on Monday to get the meter sorted after parting with the £800.

In this last week the cab has decided to start overheating every so often. I was doing a run up to Crouch End and after driving up Dartmouth Park Hill and crossing over into Hornsey Lane I not only discovered that Hornsey Lane was closed and had been for the last few weeks according to my passenger but also that there was steam pissing out from under the bonnet and the temperature gauge was in the red. I let the passenger off the £8 fare, waited about ten minutes for the hissing and steam to die down and then drove to the nearest garage in Holloway Road. By the time I got there the hissing and steam had started up again and in my haste to get back to work I yanked the filler cap off and burnt my hand a little. Cold water soon cooled the hand down and filled up my empty radiator. The funny thing was that I had no further problems that night but my eyes were constantly on the temperature gauge. I checked the following morning and a wee drop of water was needed. So there must be a small leak somewhere which will need attention on Monday morning.

I recently spent a day and a half in bed after contracting some sort of bug. My son Michael had it days before me followed by my daughter. It then decided to attack me rendering me useless (more than usual that is) for the best part of two days. It’s at times like these when you realize just how on your own in this job you are. No work, no pay, no sick pay, no nothing. Is this really what I want to be doing for the rest of my life?

Check back soon.

Happy Easter

It was a pretty good day for me today. Not least because my football team, Leeds United, won at home and finally moved out of the relegation zone. Our destiny is back in our own hands and there is now a belief that we can avoid relegation and build from there.

I did two shifts today as I had to pay money into my bank before close of business to cover some bills. I worked the first shift mainly in the Kensington area and there was no shortage of work.

Bishop's Bridge Road at dusk

One problem I did have in the first shift was when a couple of Irish ladies asked to be taken to the Montagu(e) Hotel in Montagu(e) Place. I had already decided in my mind that they wanted the Montagu(e) something or other Hotel near the British Museum. Unbeknownst (is that correct grammar) to me a new Montagu (no e) Hotel had opened closer to the pickup point which was Paddington. So theres two Montagu(e) Places in London albeit spelt slightly differently and at least two Hotels with the word Montagu(e) in them. Needless to say I went to the wrong one and had to knock £8 off the fare. They were really nice about it though and I still got a whole 20p tip out of it!!

I went home around 4.15 pm to feed the hoard and to watch out for my teams result on TV.

The second shift started with a small blunder on my part. I was enjoying a tune (Aerosmith) and a latte bought from Starbucks in Randolph Avenue when a man stuck his head in the window and asked if I would take him to Sutherland Avenue nearby. The fare was £4.20 and he gave me what looked like a screwed up tenner. I gave him the change and he walked off. When I unscrewed the “tenner” I found that it was a fiver. So he’d got the ride for nothing and made 80p as well. I suppose what comes around goes around (or is that the wrong way round?) Many’s the time when I’ve……no I don’t think you need to know that.

I ranked at Paddington Station a good few times. Once the cabs have turned off the new bridge they have to rank alongside a brick wall. Some of them take this opportunity to throw out the rubbish that has accumulated in their cabs over the last weeks and even months and, mainly after dark, to have a slash up the wall concealed by their open cab doors. The whole stretch of wall absolutely reeks of urine so you have to queue with your windows shut unless you want to fill your lungs with that disgusting smell. The station does employ cleaners to collect all the rubbish but the smell is always present and they should disinfect the wall from time to time.

" The Wall"

There was something on at the Royal Albert Hall relating to Easter as all the people coming out of there were carrying some sort of lit candles. I waited for a job on the rank outside the front door. A lady came up to ask me if I would take her and her wheelchair-bound mother to Balham but as I was second cab I told her to take the front cab. That driver promptly refused to take the wheelchair as he couldn’t be bothered to get the ramps out and sped away leaving the poor lady standing there with her mouth open.
I don’t have a problem accepting wheelchairs and instantly jumped out and extended my ramp to allow the wheelchair access to the cab. The daughter told me that they always had trouble finding cabs that would take them and I couldn’t help but feel disgusted at some of my so-called colleagues. We were in Balham in about twenty minutes and I jumped back out to assist in getting the wheelchair out. They were falling over themselves to thank me which made me feel a little ashamed. I also got a £5 tip forced on me after I’d weakly refused it a couple of times.

As I came back over Battersea Bridge I was flagged by a couple with a child wanting to go to Mecklenburg Square, a nice £20 ride to finish up.

I called in at my local Tesco to buy my kids their annual Easter Eggs. I left it too late last year and they never got any. Tesco, the robbing bastards, were charging a fiver an egg but I daren’t leave it till tomorrow as they would probably be sold out.

I just went down to photograph the Easter Eggs and found that two have already gone!!

Happy Easter to you all.

Sod's Law

The news here has been dominated by the 15 UK servicemen who were captured, detained for a few weeks and finally released and flown home from Iran yesterday. I’d like to think in cases like this that the reports we get from our own government are accurate and true. So it’s no surprise to me that it is now emerging that it wasn’t all sweetness and light over there and that the captives were kept isolated from eachother and at one point they were lined up against a wall as if they were about to be executed. It’s the sort of thing one has come to expect from most uncivilized countries where democracy is non-existent.
One thing that doing this job gives us cab drivers is the time to listen to the radio whilst working. It can be as good if not better than watching on TV and the coverage throughout the whole crisis was excellent on BBC Radio 5 Live.

You’ll all be pleased to know that I managed to scrape together the £800 needed to pay the cab garage and it was a great relief to me to get that out of the way. While I was there I asked them to check a few things. I had a couple of tyres fitted in February and in the space of seven weeks they have worn down to illegal levels. The mechanic checked the tracking and the ball joints and found them to be OK. He suggested to the owner that the problem must lie in the wishbones and that replacements would have to be ordered and fitted on my next visit. He fitted two new tyres there and then saving me a trip to Jettyres in Holloway. They also checked my speedo which has been flicking up and down instead of giving me a steady reading and it was decided that I may need a new clock or head as they called it so I have a few hours of waiting around to look forward to on my next visit which should be towards the end of next week.

Since I’ve paid the cab and the urgency has diminished I have found myself doing less and less. I only did five half shifts from Monday to Friday. Good Friday turned out to be a decent half shift as our meters were on “Rate 3” all day due to it being a Bank Holiday. Most jobs went a tenner or more and I didn’t even receive any strange comments from my passengers. I wasn’t looking to go too far north as I had to attend my nieces surprise 18th Birthday party at my sisters house in Palmers Green later on but as the Law of Sod decrees I trapped a job from the Gatwick Express all the way to the Holly Lodge Estate in Highgate and had to drive all the way back to town to carry on working. Nice views from there mind.

View from the Holly Lodge

When I arrived with my son at my sister’s house at around 9pm the party was already a few hours old and the surprise had already been sprung on my niece. As is usual at any functions hosted by any one of my family there was plenty to eat and drink. There was no music being played so I suggested linking my iPod to the active speakers of their computer. I have now loaded around 2700 songs on to it so there was plenty of choice which went down well with the older lot. After a while the younger lot got fed up with it and my iPod was replaced with my son’s one. Eminem, The Streets and lots of other stuff blasted from the speakers and effectively cleared the room of all us old fogeys.

I have no other obstacles in my way for the next three or four days so I am expecting to be able to get ahead of the game, monetarily. I’ll keep you posted.

No food please.

I’m in the work zone at the moment. Well I have to be don’t I if I want to clear my cab rent debt by Monday? But in my life there’s always something preventing me just working and earning. Be it a birthday that demands that you pay a visit or give an amount of money or a similar special occasion that needs you to attend, there’s always something. It's my Mum's birthday on Sunday, I need that like a hole in the head. Even a rare appearance by your football team live on TV. Tonight my long suffering team, Leeds United, made one of those rare appearances and guess what? We won!! What joy. I had intended to work through the evening and listen to the game on the radio but the need to watch the game was too great and a job from Victoria up to West Hampstead proved too much to resist so I bought a few delights from Tesco in Maida Vale and drove home. I won’t bore you with the details but we played really well and deserved the win, and the much needed three points that came with it.

I went straight back out after the game at 10pm and being a Friday night I had a pair of backsides on the back seat in no time. The second job after that I picked up a couple in Notting Hill. The girl wanted a price for Esher in Surrey and when I quoted £50 to £60 the guy exploded with “Fook off (he was a northerner) we’re not paying that” I think he directed it at her more than me so I never bothered to take offence. They then directed me to Wimbledon Station and started having an argument. She didn’t mind paying the money to go to Esher but he was arguing that they had their return tickets for the train and there was no way he was paying again. “But you’re not going to pay it, I am” she said to him. “Bollocks, you’re not paying it we’re getting the train” he replied. Charming way to speak to your partner, I thought. This rumbled on for a while longer and then died down and they got to talking about other things. We were now in Putney heading up the Hill towards the roundabout and a sign indicating various destinations came in to view. He spotted that one of the exits off the roundabout was the A3 which coincidentally went towards Esher. So he pipes up with: “Fook it mate, take the A3, lets go straight to Esher, I can’t be bothered to fook about with the train” then she pipes up with “you bastard, after having a go at me for wanting to do that in the first place then you do it any way…..” I couldn’t help having a little chuckle to myself at the comedy of it all. I was also relieved to be doing a decent paying job which would go some way towards getting me out of the shit I’m in.

I came all the way back from Esher jobless and stopped at the Shell garage in Putney to put yet another £30 worth of diesel in the tank. Whilst at the window paying another couple asked if I would drive them to Wimbledon via somewhere where they could get “something greasy” to eat. The only places open at that time are Kebab shops and I knew of one on the other side of Wimbledon town centre so I took them there. They wanted me to wait for them and take them home but I said I didn’t want the smell of the food to taint the inside of the cab so they paid me at the Kebab shop. I actually hate the smell of other people’s food in my cab but I don’t mind my own.

After a few more jobs in the Kings Road area and one up to North Kensington I ended up back at Notting Hill Gate and was flagged by another man holding a box containing food which no doubt he would want to eat in the cab. “Muswell Hill please driver” says this well dressed male. “Do you mind if I eat my food on the way I’ll be extra carefull”. Dilema. Do I say no and lose a much needed £30 ride or take a deep breath and say yes?
I drove with both my windows down, boy was I cold.

Plodding On

We won the darts 12 – 2. I had a good game and checked out one particular game with a bullseye. It’s generally a good night out where I can unwind and forget about cab driving for the evening, have a few shandies and a bit of banter with the rest of the team.

Tuesday started with a bit of lunch with one of my cabby mates. We met down the Royal Oak Taxi Centre and were surprised to find that our old mate Johnny Anderson had recently taken the place over. Whilst talking to John I said I went there quite often and he said he hadn’t seen me there since he’s been the owner. I said I’d been there one day last week when there were “two tasty sorts behind the counter” and was going to add more when he said “yeh, those are my daughters” “Ooops! Sorry John” I added quickly. I then described how I’d lost a tenner in the change machine and his daughters had reimbursed me and he remembered the incident. Anyhow, we had a good meal down there and found the menu greatly improved. For all you Pie and Mash loving cabbies out there he gets the proper pies in complete with liquor every Thursday.

Once fed and watered I went straight to work. The first few jobs kept me in the St John’s Wood area and after four local jobs I got one over to York Way and from then on the work was steady most of the shift. As I knew I’d be out most of the day I decided to put £30 of diesel in the tank. There’s nothing worse than being on a quarter tank or less and then getting a nice long job somewhere. I should really fill up every day but I never do.

One job took me to the Royal Geographical Society. Whilst talking to the passengers to find out what goes on in there they said that explorers and travelers hold seminars in there to talk about their journeys. I thought it would be great to attend one especially if the explorer was someone like Sir Ranulph Feinnes although I would imagine his seminar days are way behind him now.

As the day became night the condition of some passengers changed. One guy I picked up in Queensway asked for Chelsea football ground. By the time I’d made a couple of turns he was spark out with his head to one side. Fifteen minutes later as I pulled up at the destination he was completely out of it. “Hello?” I shouted through the partition. No answer. “HELLO?” “WE’RE HERE” No answer. I hate these kind of fares. “HELLO….OI MATE WE’RE HERE” A slight flicker of something in his eyes. “Hello?” one last time, then…. “Hello” from him and after a few more words from me to maintain the initiative he finally hauls himself upright and realizes what he’s got to do next which is pay me £10.40. Out comes the £20 note, I can’t be arsed to give him all my change so I round it down to £10 and off he goes.

Wednesday started with lunch with my brother in law at the Plaza in Oxford Street. They have five or six food outlets in there and I opted for KFC because I wanted to try the new Honey BBQ Bites. I wasn’t too impressed with them but the Fully Loaded Meal I also had satisfied my appetite.

My first job was an elderly lady standing on Prince Albert Road on the North side of Regents Park. She wanted to go to the Theatre Royal Haymarket. She asked me to go through the park. Is there any other way to go? I hate it when passengers state the obvious or when they ask you for a destination, you just drive away because you know it and then they start directing you after you’ve almost completed the journey. Sometimes I say nothing other times I let them know I don’t need directions. Anyhow, we’ve driven through the park and are know south bound on Portland Place. Half way down she says “Can we go back to where you picked me up?” “OK” says me U-turning. Not an unusual request, people change their minds all the time. “and can you go round the left side of the park this time and not the long way as you did before” (Hackles rising but I say nothing). I enter the park by Park Square West and by the time I reach York gate she’s changed her mind again. “Look, just go back to Haymarket and take Marylebone High Street will you” She was in danger of getting thrown out at this point. Why some people think they can talk down to you never ceases to amaze me. But again I say nothing and carry on. She’s obviously got something troubling her because she keeps tutting and wincing. The traffic was completely solid all the way there and I was half expecting her to change her mind again but she never did. The final approaches to Haymarket were a complete joke and the sound effects continued in the back of the cab. We eventually got there, she paid me and then walked off saying something under her breath. “And bollocks to you and all” I shouted causing hers and a few other heads to turn. I can do rude when it’s called for.

Funny enough a few jobs later I had a much younger version of the same with someone else treating me like something stuck to the bottom of their shoe but I never bit this time and she probably walked away from the cab feeling superior.

Time for a break or “nosebag” as we call it. I hadn’t been to Kolossi in Paddington for a while mainly because it’s difficult to park round there but I managed to get a spot outside the place and went in for one of their fanatastic kebabs and a natter with the owner.

I had a couple of nice £20+ rides after that and the final ride of the night started in Tooley Street and went to Waterloo and onto North Finchley.

Todays shift saw me start at the Royal Oak for breakfast and then work through until 23.30. I should have worked for a few more hours but I suddenly decided I’d had enough. I’m still well short on the cab rent and it looks like I’ll have to pay them on Monday when £800 will be due. I’ve never let it get to that amount and I’m sure the garage won’t be too happy about it but if I ain’t got it I ain’t got it. Friday, Saturday and Sunday are always good earning days so I should be sweet by Monday.

Back to nights

Back on a late one tonight and the difference in the time taken to earn and the manner in which it can be earned is so different to days, one tends to forget.

I started around six thirty this evening after a nice barbeque dinner with the kids. Having been on days for the last few weeks it was a bit of a wrench going out at all but as you may all be aware by now this is the third week and the third time in recent months that my cab rent times three is due. Yes six hundred smackaroos now have to be earned by about Thursday at the latest. Why do I do this to myself?

So after doing my first job from Paddington Station to Victoria Station I flew round to the rank and only had to wait a few minutes before a couple of well built African ladies approached me and asked to be taken out to Hackney. They had 2 enormous suitcases each plus other smaller bags and after getting it all into the cab I was completely fucked and out of breath. The journey there was uneventful apart from the sweat that started issuing from me due to the recent exertions with the freight. As we turned off Mare Street they directed me into a housing estate. The entrance was blocked by about six kids playing football and they seemed reluctant to step aside to let me through. Once through I stopped soon after and started to remove the cases. They seemed even heavier now. The kids seemed to take an interest and decided to surround the cab. I went back round to my side and removed my keys and locked my driver’s door then continued to remove more luggage. One of the ladies paid me and I got back into the cab. The kids were kicking the ball around right next to where I had to exit the estate. I once got cornered by a load of kids in a similar estate and I decided to drive through them. I did the same here and they all soon jumped out of the way and as I drove away the language coming out of their mouths would’ve made a navvy blush.

After a few more jobs in quick succession I found myself at the light at Hall Road and Maida Vale. Three people flagged me from one side of the road and an elderly gentleman was making his way over to me from the other side. I remained motionless and gave no indication that I’d seen either of the parties, something I often do so as not to give one or the other hope. The elderly gentleman got to me first and the three who didn’t looked at me as if I should say that they had flagged me down and it was their cab. The old boy turned out to be a nice trip down to The Millennium Gloucester Hotel.

A few more jobs came and went and I ended up on the Hilton rank on Park Lane. The doorman waved me over and opened the door for a young couple who, he said, were going to Charing Cross Station. The female’s first spoken words to her partner were:
“Don’t fuckin start alright; I’ve just about had enough of your crap tonight”
Charming thought I. They spent the whole of the ten minute trip hurling insults at each other. From what I could gather, the extremely pretty female had been attracting attention from admirers all evening and the boyfriend was just a little pissed off about it.

From Charing Cross I got a job up to Clerkenwell and then made my way round to the Kings Cross rank. The feeder section of the rank is next to St Pancras Station but that station has its own rank which only had one cab on it due to the fact that it’s not as busy as the Kings Cross rank. A burst of people came out of St Pancras and all you could hear was about ten cabs start their engines on the other rank and scoot over to the other rank cutting eachother up in the process. It was like feeding time at the zoo. Guess who got there first. Yup! I did and snagged a job down to London Bridge Station. A very talkative Staffordshire man who was a bit of a know-it-all. I duly humored him and received a good tip for my efforts.

There’s still eight more jobs to come before I call it a night, but of course I don’t know that yet. The London Bridge rank was chokka so I drove over to Waterloo and had a look at the Eurostar. It looked like I had just missed the work as the entrance hall was empty and the last cab’s tail lights were disappearing into the distance but I thought I’d plot up in case of any stragglers and also to select a better configuration on my iPod which, by the way, has to be the best invention since sliced bread. I did get a straggler but it was only over the Waterloo Bridge to the Strand Palace Hotel.

I stopped for a bite to eat at BK in Praed Street and whilst I was munching into a Whopper with cheese a guy poked his head into my half open window and asked if I was available. Before I could answer he said “You’re ‘avin Macky D’s that’s what you’re doin’ aintcha?” I said “Burger King actually but where d’you want to go” He and his pals wanted to go to Fabric, a night club in Smithfield, but I’d passed it a few hours earlier and it looked closed so I told him so. He then asked me to take him somewhere where they could get pills but I told him I didn’t know anywhere like that. Sunday is always a bad day for clubbing but I took them to Oxford Street where they decided to walk towards Soho in search of illegal substances and a good night out.

The last job worth mentioning was from Paddington to the Travelodge in Covent Garden. This lady had been caught up in some sort of delay on the train from Devon to London and it had added four hours to her journey time. She was livid with anger as she had had an evening out planned and it was now in ruins. She was telling me how she hated traveling by train but had no other choice as she had lost her licence when caught driving drunk last year. She only got banned for a year which I thought strange as a few drink drivers I know got three year bans.

So after a few weeks of ten to twelve hour shifts it was nice to earn my money in half that time and also to have something to write about due to the type of passengers picked up.
I may well have to do an early tomorrow as I play darts at my local social club on Monday nights but hope to resume evening/night work from Tuesday.

Touched or what?

I’ve been working during the day these last few weeks and by the time I’m finished on the road and get home and do all the other stuff I have to do I’ve got nothing left in the tank to blog, watch tv or anything except fall in to bed and sleep.

Since I bought my iPod I have managed to load almost 2500 songs onto it. The cassette adapter that I bought works great but it took me a while to fathom out that you have to have the iPod volume on about 70% to stop it distorting on the car stereo. Since I discovered Sugarland did a few songs with Bon Jovi I have gotten right into them and their two albums are the most played music on the iPod.

The day time traffic has been pretty bad this last week and I find my stress levels are much higher as people are very impatient and expect there to be a short cut for every eventuality. I told several passengers that if they weren’t happy being stuck in traffic that they could always get out and walk. One stroppy git took me up on that but thought I meant he didn’t have to pay the £6 on the meter. It almost came to blows but he backed down. Wise move.

One thing about days is that you can eat whatever you want as everythings open. I went to Alexanders Fish and Chip shop behind Finsbury Square yesterday and had a beef and mushroom pastie and chips with a sausage thrown in for good measure. It's hard to explain the difference between this chippy and the countless others around town. Try it for yourself. You won't be disappointed. I met with two of my cabbie mates today for breakfast. We went to Rocco's cafe in Thayer Street and had a full English breakfast. I had an Eccles cake as a dessert but it was a bit rank so I lobbed it.

As I was driving down Earls Court Road earlier today, or should I say crawling, I was hailed by a lady who looked “touched”. Being a watcher of people I can more often than not tell the type of person I’m stopping for. This lady looked troubled and part of me was saying drive off. So the other part of me decided to pick her up, possibly a mistake possibly not. She asked for Cheyne Place in Royal Hospital Road. The obvious route to her destination was blocked with traffic so using my initiative I went to take Old Brompton Road. “Where are you going?” she screamed (I knew she was a nutter). Explaining that the route would be heavy going and that I should go another way she said we should stay on the heavy going route. Fine thought I, it’s her money. A few minutes later I hear wimpering coming from the back. “Oh why is it taking so long?” she was half wimpering half crying. “Didn’t I tell you it would be busy this way?” I told her looking through the rear-view mirror. “What’s the matter anyway, why are you crying?” I added. “I’m distressed” came her reply. “Distressed about what?” said I. “I’m ill” and then the floodgates opened and she started sobbing and wailing uncontrollably. I had seen this coming for a few minutes now so I wasn’t surprised in the least. There was nothing I could do but go with the flow of the traffic but I wanted her out of the cab asap. She quietened down a bit but was muttering to herself. I heard her say, in between deep breaths, “We’re nearly there, we’re nearly there”. Then after a ten second burst of speed we caught the lights at Battersea Bridge and she went doolaly again. “Oh my God I can’t stand this, I think I’m going to die” Now, it could have gone bad for her here as I was ready to throw her out. She was getting me all on edge with her hysterics. As we were literally 2 or 3 minutes from her home I decided to grin and bear it and humour her. “Don’t worry my darlin’ you’ll soon be home with a nice cuppa and your feet up” This seemed to calm her and within a few minutes we were outside her house with the meter reading £8.40. Cue the final scene. She’s got four pound coins and a serious amount of shrapnel that amounts at best to another £1.50. She starts getting into a panic about it and I tell her to just give me the four pounds and forget the rest. She insists I should take the shrapnel and whilst attempting to pass it through the partition drops it everywhere and promptly collapses in tears again. “It’s OK luv don’t worry about the rest of the money” says me. Next she asks my name. “My name’s Charlie” I answer. “Oh Charlie I’m so sorry about all this. I live at Flat 1, come round later or tomorrow and I’ll give you the rest of the money”. “Look, forget the money, get yourself indoors before you have a nervous breakdown” I’d had enough by now and there was three people watching waiting for her to get out so they could take the cab. She finally walked toward her front door and a very stressful ride came to an end. The three passengers that got in started picking up all the money that had dropped on the floor and handed it over to me. I always keep coppers separate from the other money so it went straight into the copper bag I have in the arm rest. She obviously had emotional issues so I was quite pleased that I never treated her the same as I would a drunk at night.

As this week draws to an end I look forward to a lie-in on Saturday morning as I don’t have to take my daughter to school.

Hablas Español?

My “Supermechanic” brother in law recently took delivery of his brand new TX4. He brought it round so that I could take it for a spin and I was very impressed with the power in the new engine. It’s also supposed to have the best suspension these cabs have ever had but I felt that after a few weeks or months of driving over our pot-hole-ridden roads it would end up as shagged as all the other cabs out there. I hope I’m proved wrong. I think I’ll just content myself with renting for the moment and who knows I may try being an owner again in a few years.

I took my cab to the garage on Friday as the rent was due (times three). It broke my heart parting with six hundred quid but that’s my fault for letting it build up to that amount. While I was there I got them to change a few bulbs that had blown in the dashboard. The mechanic tried to fob me off because it was a “dashboard out” job but a quiet word with the owner, who was lurking around keeping the troops in order, soon changed the mechanic’s way of thinking. I have been driving around without a dash display for the last few weeks and have been unable to read the speedo. I got double flashed the other night by yet another speed camera and if they bothered to put any film in them, I, and probably many other drivers, would have received driving bans by now.

I was all set for a quiet Saturday evening in when my mate rang me to see if I wanted to buy an 80gig iPod. All my kids have them and I have recently been getting the urge to own one so I agreed to buy it and went straight out to work to earn the required money. I intend to put as many of my CD’s onto the iPod and play it through the tape deck in the cab with one of those fake tape thingys you plug into the headphone socket.

I was 1st cab on the rank at Waterloo tonight when a pair of people walked up to the window with a bit of paper.
Lady: Hablas Español ? (Do you speak Spanish?)
Me: Si (Yes)
Lady: O fantastico. Ahora nos podemos entender sin nadie poniendose nerviosos. (Oh that’s fantastic. Now we can understand eachother without anyone getting nervous)
Me: Yo nunca me pongo nervioso. (I never get nervous)
Lady: It’s a figure of speech my dear. (this was said in Spanish but I can’t remember the words she used).
So, my passengers were Spanish and classed me as one of their own. I had to give them my full life story (leaving out the gory bits), I had to listen to theirs (only mildly interesting) and I also had to give them the guided tour of anything interesting en route to their budget hotel in Bayswater. As expected, after exhausting my vast knowledge of all the places of interest we passed on the way, (London Eye, Big Ben, The Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, Marble Arch etc) I got sweet FA tipwise but a “come visit us next time you’re in Spain” and a business card with their address and phone number.

It was a pleasant evening all the same and and I made some good money.

Sorry Wil

So it’s my fault that Wil at Paradise Driver is losing precious sleeping time because he is now hooked on alluc.org? What can I say? It’s a great site and beats paying for entire series on DVD that you may only watch once or twice at best. I, on the other hand have learned how to control my urges and only watch a few episodes a night as it was getting ridiculous. Enjoy Wil!

I had a fantastic day at work today. I started at 3pm worked until 7.30pm came home and resumed at 9pm. Considering it was a Wednesday and there was no rain there were lots of people out and about. Waiting times on all the major ranks was minimal and all the trouble makers must have been at home watching Arsenal get knocked out of Europe. My son, being a Spurs fan was delighted. When I tried to tell him he should support all British clubs in Europe, including Spurs’ arch enemies, he wouldn’t hear of it.

I was on the point at Victoria tonight when a very attractive Asian lady walked up to my window. She was being shadowed by two dodgy-looking henchmen who kept a discreet distance. As bold as you like she said to me “I’d like to go to Bradford please”. I said “Bradford what? Street, place, road?” “No” she answered “Bradford in Yorkshire”. I thought that’s what she meant. So I said to her “You know that’s at least a four hour drive and a £350 fare?” I only guesstimated the fare but I’m sure if I checked the price list in my cabbies diary it would be something ridiculous like £450 to £500. Any way, she looked prepared to pay the asking price but after taking another look at the two guys who would surely be getting in with her I decided to pass. “Sorry luv I’m almost done for the night. Ask down the line and I’m sure someone will bite your hand off for a ride like that” I seriously doubted that anyone would drive her to “God’s own country” but there was no harm in asking. It would have been a lovely job but all the factors would have had to add up before I accepted it such as the money up front and no dodgy looking companions for starters.

So after almost landing the job of my career I had to settle for “bread and butter” work in and around our fair city.

I was actually on my way home around 1am when a guy walked over to where I was waiting at the light on Marylebone Road and asked if I’d take him out to Harrow. He looked a bit the worse for wear but as I’d already taken my money for the night I didn’t give a shit if he did a runner. It turned out, as it often does when you try and figure someone out in the few seconds you have, that I had him all wrong and that he was a thoroughly nice bloke. He was a season ticket holder at QPR and we had a deep discussion about the plight of our respective football teams. I told him that I was at the Leeds v QPR game a few weeks ago and it turns out that we were probably sitting about 10 feet apart only separated by a segregation wall. Small world.

To cap off a great night I have just checked my bank balance online and discovered that BT (British Telecom) have reimbursed me £160 of credit that had been building up in my telephone account.

Happy days, well for today anyway.