Marching On Together?

Leeds United, my beloved football team, played the first leg of the play-offs last night and I stayed in to watch it. Apart from a few memorable moments in all the years of supporting them, it’s mainly just been misery and despair. We lost the home leg 2-1 and now need to beat Carlisle at their place on Thursday night. Glutton for punishment that I am, I will be staying in to watch that too. Because of the football I never played darts tonight. We needed to win our last game of the season to win the league. The Captain was texting me to try and get me to come there instead of watching the game but it was no contest. My two boys went as usual and managed to easily secure a 12-2 victory thus winning us the league and promotion to the first division. Leeds should take a leaf out of our book.

Since I posted last Wednesday I have carried working on relentlessly.
I met up with Chris the next day for a Cornish pasty and a coffee at Marylebone Station. He’d also bought me a blood pressure monitor and we sat in the back of my cab taking our blood pressure in turn. Mine was 144 over 92 and anyone who knows about blood pressure will know that’s a pretty high reading. I had to see the doc the next day and she put me on some different meds to try and bring it down. I always have a chuckle to myself when I’m in with her because you get no sympathy whatsoever from her. In fact she is totally devoid of any emotions and just wants you out of there asap.

I’m still getting attacked by anonymous commenters for the infamous “20p” incident in Old Church Street. Guys, or Gals for that matter, there’s no need to be so nasty. When I read those posts again they seem fair to me. But I suppose it takes all sorts to make a world doesn’t it?

The other night I was driving back towards town after a fare to Camberwell when a guy flagged me on the Vauxhall one-way. He had a bit of paper in his hand, which always gets me excited. He said he was completely lost and wanted a cab ride out to Weybridge.

Me: You know that’s a £70 to £80 fare mate?
Him: What?? It’s not far from here is it?
Me: Yeh it’s about £70 to £80 from here.
Him: Well I’ve got no other option at this time so let’s go for it.
Me: No problem mate that’ll be £80 up front and you’ll get any change that’s due.
Him: We’ll find a cash point when we get down there.
Me: There’s one just round the corner, I’ll take you there instead shall I?
Him: Whatever!

I’d anticipated a spot of bother but as it turned out he got the money and paid me upfront. I got the postcode off him and once in the vicinity I asked what we were looking for.

Him: The Moreland Lodge Hotel 46 Portsmouth Road KT11 1BW

was how he told me the address.
There wasn’t a hotel with that name at the address it was the Cobham Lodge Hotel, obviously a name-change had occurred at some recent point.

Me: Are you sure it hasn’t changed its name?
Him: No, mine charges £55 per night that one (the sign outside said) charges £77.

I drove up and down Portsmouth Road twice before I decided the Moreland Lodge never existed anymore. He had the phone number on the piece of paper, which I rang from my phone. “Hello, Cobham Lodge Hotel, may I help you?” Came the reply. Nuff said. £75 and a receipt and I’m homeward bound once again.

Friday and Saturday night were typical. Lots of people going out to clubs and bars. Lots of drunk people coming out of clubs and bars.
The Elton John song “Saturday Nights Alright For Fighting” sprung to mind as I pulled up in the traffic in Fulham Broadway at the same moment that a crowd of young men decided to start a mass brawl. I felt a bit too close for comfort as these guys were laying into each other with venom. One poor bloke was getting pummelled by two men. He received a punch in the face, which knocked him backwards, cracking his head on the pavement. As his head hit another guy booted him full in the face. I must admit it was quite sickening. My punter, who I was driving to Munster Road, was shitting himself and started panicking. A couple of those plastic-coppers came running towards the fracas and to give them due respect they steamed straight in and started separating everyone. Within seconds three police cars arrived from different directions with sirens wailing and the group of lads started dispersing in all directions. With the action at an end cars that had slowed to observe moved off and I was able to continue my journey to Munster Road.

As I said earlier, tonight’s shift was short on account of me having stayed in to watch the football. I got out at 10pm then had to return home as my daughter had no keys to get in. I still managed a respectable nights takings and finished the shift off with an Underground job from Holland Park Station to Greenford. It was only one pickup and drop and I was chatting to the guy about his job and he said he was waiting to be accepted as a train driver where he will earn 41k instead of the 22k he was presently earning to collect tickets, sweep the platforms and take loads of abuse from the general public.

Should be back to normal tonight.

Be Lucky.

"Running To Stand Still"

So we have a new Mayor now and we’re all waiting to see how his policies may affect us in either a good or bad way. I voted for him as I’ve always voted for the Conservatives for good or bad and one policy I will be looking forward to seeing the Mayor implement is ridding the streets of the Bendy Bus. You only have to get stuck behind a couple of them in Oxford Street to know they’ve always been a bad idea on our narrow streets.

One commenter on the last post said, and I quote “you need to stop being so lazy, who goes to work and has a break straight away?” Now rather than attack him back I should probably take a few moments to explain my situation for anyone remotely interested. I live with my three kids. For reasons best known to me I get very little help in running this home so it is inevitably down to me to do everything. I cook, I clean, I vacuum, I take the rubbish out, I do the laundry, I do the shopping and basically do everything that needs doing. So most days I’ve already done a full days work before I have to go and do my shift in the cab. The reason I may go straight to the Royal Oak Taxi Centre is because I fancy something different from what my kids have had and they are geared up to provide me with that something. Also, if it’s already after 8pm then that is a good time to eat as the work dies down till 10pm. This job is not like a 9 to 5 job where you do 4 hours then have a meal break; it’s unique so that you can work when it’s busy and take a break during the quiet spells. Me, lazy? I don’t have the time to be lazy.

Leading on from above, I haven’t had a day off now for over two weeks. The cab has been paid along with various other monthly bills and a saying I find myself quoting to people when asked how I am or how work is is that “I’m running to stand still” (which also happens to be the title of one of my favourite U2 songs). London is still recovering from the Easter break, which seemed to have gone on for much longer than other years.

Since I resumed the medication for my various ailments there have been a couple of times when I’ve had to rush home as one of the side effects has kicked in causing me to “run for the bog” Not nice when you’re on the other side of town and can only use your own toilet. Still, it seems to have settled down now and isn’t as much of a concern.

Work has been pretty uneventful and looking through my notes reveals only a few talking points. Last Wednesday I took a guy from Oxford Street down to Clapham. He paid me off and I drove all the way to Victoria before getting my next ride. There was a problem with the trains and an old fella asked me how much to Gatwick Airport. I quoted him £90 and he nearly had a heart attack probably expecting to hear about £30. “Don’t act so surprised mate” I said to him “it’s a thirty-mile journey and it’s around £3 a mile” He thought about it for a moment then said “I’ll do it for eighty” like it was his decision. I then thought about it, weighed up my options, which weren’t that good and agreed. We chatted most of the way until I hit the M23 and arrived at a deserted North Terminal at around 2am. He handed over the agreed £80 and got out of the cab. I looked on the back seat and there was a pretty large bag sitting there. “Oi mate!!” I called out to him as he was walking away. “You’ve left a bag on the seat” “It was there when I got in” he replied. So he’d sat chatting to me all the way from Victoria with someone else’s bag sitting on the seat next to him. “I thought it was yours” he added. Why the hell would it be mine? It’s a pity the guy I’d picked up when Chris left his moneybag in the cab wasn’t as honest. I pulled over a few yards away and inspected the contents of the bag and found, amongst various items, a laptop. It looked like a nice one too. My son told me it was Israeli, I forget the name but it began with Lan… or something similar. Anyway, there were lots of forms of ID in the bag and I rang the guy the next day. I returned it to him at his place of work in the Regent’s Park area and he gave me a £40 reward, which exceeded my expectations.

Thursday the 1st of May was Election Day and I waited outside a polling station in Battersea Park while my passenger voted. He was talking to someone in the street and I felt I knew this person and I was wracking my brains to know where from. It eventually dawned on me who this person was. When my passenger returned I asked if he knew the person. I then asked if he was a barrister. He said yes to both questions and I knew it was the defence barrister from my two-week jury service stint. He’d worn a wig and gown in court so looked completely different in his tennis attire. My passenger asked if he was any good and I told him that we’d acquitted the defendant so he must have been.

That same shift I did two nice jobs out into the sticks. The first one was from Berkeley Square out to Rickmansworth. I came back in from there to do a few more jobs before ranking on the Hilton in Park Lane. Two blokes came out and asked for Potters Bar. I drove through Potters Bar and eventually dropped them in a place called Cuffley and went home from there.

Monday was Mayday Bank Holiday and the meter was on rate 3 all day. I started at 7pm and worked almost non-stop until 2am. I finished up with my first London Underground account job in three weeks, Waterloo to Rayners Lane.

Before I went to work yesterday I saw on the news that there was an incident in Kings Road, Chelsea and never thought anymore about it. Once at work a few jobs took me down to that area and there were police sirens and helicopters and all sorts of things going on. It turns out that there was an armed siege going on at a house in Markham Square which resulted in the shooting and killing of a gunman

The rest of the shift was pretty uneventful and I ended it with another Underground job from Morden Station in south west London to Mornington Crescent.
More soon.

Unlucky Chris

Seeing as my mate Chris aka Titanic can’t be bothered to blog at the moment I asked his permission to let you all know what’s been happening in his working life of late.

He generally works the same hours as me and picks up the same variety of nice people, arseholes and scumbags. We’ll stop for a coffee and a bite to eat on most nights depending on where we are at any given time.

On the Saturday just gone we stopped for a coffee and a slice of cake at the Subway on Tottenham Court Road. We sat outside a busy pub where there was plenty to see and talk about and after about half an hour we went back to work. I trapped almost immediately, a job down to Battersea. He trapped a nice ride down to Hammersmith. After 30 minutes and a few jobs later my phone rang and a frantic Chris asked me if I’d found his moneybag, which he’d left on the back seat of my cab containing his nights takings. I wasn’t carrying anybody at that moment so I was able to pull over and investigate further. The bag wasn’t there. “It’s long gone mate” was how I broke the news to him. There was nothing I could do but to listen to the emissions of pain and rage coming from my phone as Chris vented his anger and frustration finally terminating the call to decide his next step. The guy I had picked up after our coffee break must’ve found it and thought it was his lucky night and decided to keep it. The road he had initially given as his destination, Inworth Street (no number otherwise I would have printed that too you robbing bastard) was changed to Battersea Park Road where he got out so as not to lead me to his front door. The bag also contained Chris’s Taxi License and would need reporting as stolen at a suitable Police station. I gave Chris all the information mentioned above and after dropping a job in the vicinity he parked up and went looking through a few bins just in case the guy had thrown the bag away after removing the cash (£150). He’s clinging to a last thread of hope that the guy will have an attack of conscience and at least send him the license back in the post but we’ve both decided not to hold our breaths.

As if that misfortune wasn’t enough the following day his cab broke down on the M1.
He was driving along and the cab started shuddering and vibrating. He pulled well over to the left and rang the breakdown and after 40 minutes they came and towed him to his garage. It turned out to be a collapsed wheel bearing which has now been repaired. His cab is now off the road as it’s due for its annual overhaul so he’s using his brother’s cab for the next week.

Chris's cab on the breakdown wagon

Since my last post I have been grafting away taking two steps forward and three steps back and getting nowhere fast. Three weeks behind with the you-know-what but that should be sorted by Wednesday.

I’m flicking through my notes to see what, if anything of interest, I can tell you.

8.4.08. I picked up the singer, Bjork, for the second time. I took her and a friend to the Odeon in Camden Town.

That same shift I also picked up a fare from Victoria Station and took him to the east side of London Fields. This is a park in Hackney and at 2.30am in the morning looks and feels a completely different place than by day. As we arrived at a deserted location in Martello Street there were a few undesirables hanging about and I suggested I drop my fare a bit further down the street but he seemed to know the area and that it would be OK so he got out there and I drove away. I hate that area of town.

9.4.08. I received a £120 fine in the post for being caught in the Kidbroke Park bus lane at 1.30 in the morning a few months earlier. Does anyone know if a bus lane fine starts at £120 or should it start at £60? The garage must’ve forwarded my name and I’m wondering if they overlooked it as the desk in the office is always in a mess. I couldn’t ring and ask as I owed them the rent. That always works against me and one day I’m gonna put it right. Yeah right!!

Bang to rights

Thursday 10.4.08. Having just been to the bank in St John’s Wood, I was driving back home, half asleep, when I drove into the side of a BMW on the famous Abbey Road Zebra Crossing. We pulled ahead of the crossing and the two occupants jumped out to inspect the damage, which luckily for me, turned out to be a few minor scuffs on the rear bumper. They decided it wasn’t worth pursuing and left it at that.

Sunday 13.4.08. Started at 6.30pm and after 5 jobs decided to stop for dinner. I rang my favourite Chinese Take-away in Battersea Park Road and ordered my usual Satay Chicken and rice but also asked them to add a handful of cashews to it. When I arrived at the shop the chef started arguing with the order-taker in Chinese waving his hands in my direction. She (the order-taker) gave as good as she got and finally turned to me and asked me to confirm that I’d asked for the extra cashews to be added. I’ve been having the same dish for the last few years and the chef seemed to not be able to accept that I could change the order to add an extra handful of cashew nuts. He needed to hear me confirm it and still didn’t feel it was right but reluctantly fried off a handful of cashews and added them to the already-cooked Satay chicken. I’ve been back a few times since and he is now OK with it, or at least I hope so and he’s not adding an ingredient or two of his own, if you get my drift.

Tuesday 15.4.08. There is a famous pub in Mayfair called “I am the only running footman”. Weird name for a pub but that’s the name it’s gone by since I’ve been a cab driver for 18 years and was probably it’s name for a long time before that too. It’s on the Corner of Charles Street and Hays Mews. I must have passed it a few thousand times but never actually got asked for it by name. Today a lady asked for it by name and I was mentally aware that it was the first time ever I’d been asked for it. I just thought I’d share that one with you all.

Later on in this same shift the doorman of the Holiday Inn Regents Park flagged me. He was out in Great Portland Street looking for two cabs and I was the second one. I put my meter on and drove round to the hotel to wait for the passengers. The first cab got his passengers and drove off. I sat there until I had £10 on the meter. There was no one in sight, even the doorman had disappeared. I got out and went in search. There were two different employees behind the counter in reception but all I got from them was “it’s nothing to do with us”. As stated in another post this sort of thing happens occasionally and different cabbies handle it in different ways. As there was no one to shout at I had to drive away empty-handed with £12 on the meter making a mental note not to be “had-over” ever again.

Wednesday 16.4.08. Only did half a shift as that tired feeling washed over me after 8 jobs. I bought a can of Red Bull as it is supposed to “give you wings” but after half an hour I was worse than ever and flew home.

Being a diabetic, I had my annual eye screening this week and was told that my blood pressure was too high. Since seeing my doctor I have had an ECG and a blood test and am awaiting the results which I should get this coming Friday.

I would describe myself as normal looking. Not rugged or tough-looking but not the opposite either. If someone like me flagged my cab down I would stop for them, especially if they had five carrier bags of shopping from Sainsbury’s. Yet this old codger was driving along Kilburn High Road at a snails pace, with his “Hire” light on, looked me in the eye and then roared off. What’s all that about? Karma for all the people I’ve done similar to? Maybe his gut instinct told him I might be trouble, who knows? I waited for another cab to come by but none did so I had to walk the half mile home with these five loaded carrier bags of shopping cutting into my hands.

Sunday 20.4.08. I did a job from Paddington Station to Huntsworth Mews. I ask fellow cabbies to run it in their head. Right out of the station, round into Sussex Gardens, straight through to Marylebone Road, left into Gloucester Place set down on the left. Simple. Yet the passenger starts accusing me of ripping him off, saying it was £1.60 more than the last time. As he had already handed me a £20 note and was waiting for the change, I decided that I couldn’t be arsed to explain why and decided tell him that he was talking out of his arse and that he was talking crap. He asked why he would need to talk crap and talk out of his arse and I told him he must’ve had a bad day and was looking for an argument. We had a bit of an exchange of ideas by which time I’d given him his change and told him to “jog on”. He’d probably previously done the journey by day on rate 1.

Yesterday, Monday, started off with a trip to the Public Carriage Office to renew my Taxi Drivers Licence or Bill as we call it, for the seventh time in 18 years. £285 is what I had to pay and will now have to drive around with a cover note until the new one is issued. The last time it took almost 6 months, as there were problems with the CRB check.

From the PCO I had to drive in search of the new Super Mario game for the Wii game system. My son, Michael, was with me and we drove all over the place until finally obtaining a copy at John Lewis’s in Oxford Street.

I started my shift with a meal at the Royal Oak. Chris was also there and we never drove over to Paddington until 9pm, which is pretty late if you’re hoping for a decent night. Needless to say I struggled to earn £140 after some really desperate jobs and went home deflated at 2am.

It’s now 5pm on Tuesday and I plan to be out much earlier tonight, as I must get my cab paid tomorrow.

Catch you later.

Continuing Women Problems

I don’t know if it’s just me but I seem to have been experiencing more job related hassles than I’d care to wish on anyone. Since the last post I’ve had another bad credit card, my iPaq died on me and I also had a slagging match with another woman. Welcome to my world.

My immediate concern is to pay three weeks cab rent (yes, that old chestnut rears it’s head again) by tomorrow before it becomes four weeks on Monday. The letter all drivers at the garage we’re given a few weeks ago obviously hasn’t had the desired effect as we’re all still paying the rents as late as ever. I was at one particular garage in the 90’s where if you hadn’t paid by the due day, Monday, the owner would ridicule you in front of whoever was in the office at the time. This gave you two options. You either ridiculed him back and told him where he could shove his cab or you paid on time. It worked for me for a time but I eventually left there and went to my present garage where my piss-taking, unfortunately, knows no bounds.

The credit card problem followed the night after the one I had in my last post. This one was much shorter but the same problem arose where the PDA returned a rejection message to which I assumed (what do they say about assumption?) that the problem was at Xeta HQ. I let her walk away with 7.80 on the “hickory” and after speaking with someone at Xeta realised I wasn’t getting my money for this job. That’s definitely the last one I do for a while. I’ve refused three or four since.

My iPaq 5550, which operates my satnav and my AtoZ mapping software let me down this week. For those of you familiar with PDA’s, the screen, as it gets older, needs re-aligning with the tool provided. I’d already re-aligned the screen a few times in the last few months so it was obviously on its way out. It finally refused to realign so I had no option but to buy a new one off ebay. This arrived a few days ago and I’m back up and running now.

The Slagging Match
I was sitting on South Kensington rank messing about with the faulty PDA. I looked up and the front cab drove off empty leaving me with a drunk mess of a lady. She could barely speak she was that drunk. I’m not going to drag this one out but after three different destinations we ended up in Barnes. The meter showed £20.20. She only had £10. OK so we’ll drive to the nearest cashpoint and get the rest methinks. That’s all the money she had and wasn’t able to get anymore from anywhere. She had this like-it-or-lump-it attitude that finally started me off. Before I did I rang my daughter and told her what was about to happen. She put her phone on loudspeaker which added another half a dozen listeners as there was a gathering at my house for the recent Wrestlemania live screening.

Me: So, you haven’t got any money?
Her: Nope
Me: You’re rat-arsed right?
Her: Yep, I’m rat-arsed.
Me: So you can spend all your money on drink but when it comes to paying the cab driver it’s tough shit then is it?
Her: (silent)
Me: People like you make me sick. I’ve got kids to feed and bills to pay…
At this point she switched to hysterical mode and started screaming and ranting that she also had kids and that she worked 12 hours a day for little money blah blah blah.

Me: So why are you getting a cab if you can’t pay? I’m driving you to the police station.
More screams and hysterics and her mobile phone came flying through the partition.
Her: Take my fucking phone I don’t want it.
Me: I don’t fucking want it either (throwing it back at her).

We were both ranting at the top of our voices and the audience back at home were laughing their heads off. I knew I wasn’t going to get any more money out of her so told her to just get out. She remained sat there still ranting. Barnes is an extremely posh area and our shouts and screams were now beginning to alert the locals. Heads were appearing at windows and curtains were twitching. I got out and walked round to the kerb side, opened the door and told her to hop-it. As she got out she squared up to me. She must’ve weighed all of 7 stones, half my weight and only came up to my chin. I said something like “what, d’you think I’m gonna fight with you? Get yer arse home you stupid bitch” and got back in the cab and drove off. Again, more grief from yet another woman. Why is it only the women?

I finally made it to the cab garage on Friday. Again, nothing was said but it’s just as well I went, as I had to collect an appointment card for the annual tariff increase on Sunday. A tariff increase, to me, only means earning what I need that little bit quicker and getting back home to my creature comforts. I noticed the difference on the Sunday night when I did a run from Waterloo Station to Shepherds Bush. There was not a drop of traffic on the roads and the meter went up to £25.40, an increase of about 2 to 3 pounds.

I’ve just dropped my son off at college and have taken my cab through the wash at the garage in Willesden Lane. It’s gleaming at the moment, something it hasn’t been for a few weeks. All ready for tonights shift.
Check back soon

Who's Jonny?

Getting ready to blog

I have another cabbie friend called Chris who rang me the other morning about a problem he was having with his PDA. It had lost its charge after three days without use and had wiped off all his maps and satellite navigation software. I have had lots of experience re-installing maps and software to my own and two other friends’ PDA’s so it only took me minutes to do Chris’s. Although us cabbies have “The Knowledge” it still feels like your left nut is missing when the PDA’s cack-out for whatever reason.

Later that night I did an Underground job on Xeta, which ended up at Canning Town via North Greenwich from Waterloo. From the final drop-off I had to drive to Tottenham to pick up my daughter and the satnav guided me through Twelvetrees Crescent for the first time ever. 50% of the time you can expect it to take you the wrong way and as I passed a sign saying “private estate” I thought “Here we go again”. Even the map shows the road is closed off but as I drove from one end to the other and found myself entering the A12 I was quite impressed. Do any East London drivers know if you can use this route during the day?

Wednesday saw me start at 4pm, the earliest I have started for a while. I had to go to the bank in St John’s Wood first and then got my first job from there. An old boiler, is how I could best describe her. She was 70-odd with rotten teeth, a Worzle Gummidge hairdo and a musky essence-of-piss about her. From the word go she never stopped telling me her life story, mainly the various ailments and medications she was on. She started coughing uncontrollably and announced she had some sort of virus to which I expressed my concern about whether it was contagious. I had to endure that all the way to Victoria where she then paid the entire fare (£15) in £ coins which I was in need of so was pleased.

As she got out two more fares were waiting to get in and wanted to go back into the thick of it to the Holborn area. As they got out to pay the fare (£10.60) one of the two women gave me a tenner and walked away. I was going to forget about the sixty pennies when she turned round and hurried back saying “Oh my God, I’ve got to give you more money. I’m a dickhead” she looked anything but a dickhead to me but I accepted the £2 coin she offered me and bade her farewell. For anyone comparing what happened a few posts ago I would say that the circumstances were different.

Being on this side of town and not having had anything to eat or drink since getting up, I drove up to Euston to seek out the Prêt a Manger there. It was pretty late in the afternoon so they never had a large selection of sandwiches. I sat outside the Novotel eating my food and watching everyone hurry about their business.

There was to be a big evening of International football this evening so it was inevitable that I would at some point get a job to the 60,000 seater Emirates Statdium, home of Arsenal Football Club who were hosting a friendly game between Brazil and Sweden. The Stadium, as it turned out, was filled to capacity so there was quite a bit of work there for a few hours after the game.

I stopped for a burger with Chris at Marylebone Station and, unable to get our favourite dessert of lemon cheesecake, we had to settle for a lemon soufflé type of dessert, which came in little ceramic pots that probably cost more than the contents. I meant to keep the pots as they make good ashtrays but inadvertently threw them out yesterday.

The last job for Wednesday took me from Upper Thames Street in The City up to Bowes Park. The extremely drunk man was trying to explain where he wanted but with simply mentioning the name of the area and his road I had enough to get him home. He was trying to talk to me about how he was in trouble with his girlfriend but as I couldn’t understand his slurry words I ignored him and he dozed off. He woke as I was crossing Seven Sisters road at Green Lanes and Manor House and started shouting at me to turn left. He thought he was further ahead than we were and it took a lot of explaining to convince him otherwise.

Last night’s shift was surreal. I actually felt like a cabby who could go anywhere, work any part of town and be just at home in un-charted waters.

Ist job was from Paddington to Dalston. Back through The City and a shortish one from Moorgate to Ensign Street. “Do you know Ensign Street?” asked the well dressed lady. In 1981 I chose to end my career in the Merchant Navy by handing in my naval documents at the office, which was at that time, in Ensign Street. I always regretted that decision and driving along Ensign Street always brings up that sour memory.

“Wilds Rents please driver” said the next passenger as she got in at London Bridge Station.

“Where the hell, no, what the hell is Wild’s Rents” I thought to myself. Don’t we have some peculiar street names here? I knew of a Perkins Rents near Victoria so it had to be a street name. Luckily there was a bit of traffic, which enabled me to check the AtoZ. It was only a few streets away and I was there in minutes and wondered if it would take another 18 years before I was asked to go there again.

Back on the rank at Victoria and in gets a nice lady. “Waterloo please. Oh look someone’s left their bag in the back” She passed the bag through the window and it looked valuable, possibly a laptop. When she got out at Waterloo I pulled over to inspect the contents of the bag to find a Dell Latitude laptop with all the accessories. There was also a business card with the possible name of the owner. I never rang the number until this morning and the laptop owner was pleasantly surprised. He thought he’d seen the last of it. He arranged a courier to collect it and promised me he would send me a “little something” for my trouble. Watch this space.

The circuit I do work for, Xeta, accept credit cards. So I accepted a street hiring to London Bridge, Westcombe Park and finally dropping off in Sidcup, Kent. The passenger that got out at Westcombe Park was the credit card holder and wanted to finalise the transaction there. The way Xeta works is that you can only process the card at the end of the trip. So, thinking all would be OK as the man looked respectable enough, I just took down all the relevant numbers and said I would do it at the journeys end. We arrived at the address in Sidcup and I drove away and pulled over down the street to complete the transaction. I tried three times to process the card and each time it was declined. £51.80 was a lot of money. I rang Chris up to tell him the story and I think his opinion of me dipped for a few seconds as he wondered how with all my years of experience I could allow myself to get caught out like that. As it turned out there was a problem at Xeta HQ and after speaking to a very helpful guy on the phone my problem was resolved but I learned a valuable lesson yesterday and that was to keep contact with the last man out of the cab until the transaction is finalised.

Heading back into town on the A2 I saw the columns of the O2 Dome all lit up. I thought there might be a concert on so decided to drive over there. The taxi rank next to North Greenwich Station had 8 cabs on it and I thought “What the heck, I’ll give it a go”. After about a ten-minute wait my passenger approached the cab. You try and mentally pick their destination but very seldom get it right. My hopes of a ride into town were dashed as she uttered the word “Kidbroke” I recently read somewhere on another blog that the local cab drivers frown on us central London drivers stealing their work and thought to myself if this is “their work” then they can keep it and after dropping at Kidbroke drove through the Blackwall Tunnel and up to Canary Wharf.

All the ranks were full but I trapped a pair of men between ranks. They wanted somewhere to get some food. “What about McDonalds” I suggested. “Not Macki D’s. Indian” said one of them. It was 12.30am and the only place they would definitely get an Indian meal was in Brick Lane. They didn’t want to go as far in as Brick Lane and had me running them around to various favourites of theirs which all turned out to be finished for the night. We eventually ended up in Brick Lane and I pocketed £20.

The work was beginning to dry up so I headed for Victoria and was in luck as a train had just arrived. A very energetic thirty-something asked to be taken to Bow. He talked non-stop about his job as a rep in Gran Canaria and how he used to be Jonny in Season 6 of Dream Team, a show I never watch but my kids do. I took his picture to show the kids and have posted it here. Anyone recognize him?

Heading home from Bow I trapped on Clerkenwell Road all the way to Sussex Gardens, ten minutes from home. It had been a good night all round and the quietness of the Easter week left firmly behind.

All Egged Out

Easter Sunday came and went without Easter Eggs this year. About a month ago you could have bought three for three pounds but as the last few days before Easter approached the prices at my local Sainsbury’s in Ladbroke Grove rocketed to between four and five pounds per egg which saw my tighter side refuse to pay that amount. Is there no end to the greed of some of these supermarkets?

Work tonight was, in a word…..crap.
I started at 7.20pm and drove straight over to Paddington where it was in and out with the queue of people all the way back to the drop off point. My firt job took me to Ladbroke Road, not a great job but near enough to return to Paddington asap.

The next one went a little further. Through Hyde Park to Beaufort Gardens. From there it was better to try my luck at Victoria but I only made it to the Coach Station before I picked up three ladies to the Park Plaza Riverside.

I dieseled up at the BP in Vauxhall Bridge Road on my way back to Victoria and paid £1.17.9 per litre. It’s getting stupid now.

A longish wait at Victoria only yielded a short job to Huttons Hotel in Belgrave Road and I was legalled-off to the tune of £4.

Back at Victoria and a similarly longish wait saw me take a couple to the UCH (University College Hospital). The lady was in some sort of distress and spent the whole journey doubled over and wincing. I never asked. It’s not my style.

I spent this morning downloading some Spanish songs that had taken my fancy. I made a Spanish playlist for my iPod and played it the whole shift. There’s one particular song I heard on YouTube last week and that one got played the most. It was a song by Alejandro Sans called “Se le apago la luz” and from what I can gather is about someone dying after a road accident and is very sad. Nice tune tho!

I stopped for a bite to eat with Chris at Gloucester Road. Burger King followed by two maple/pecan cakes from the Tesco there hoping to break the space/time continuum, in other words to change my luck. It must’ve worked as after 10 minutes on the South Kensington Rank I got a job down to Upper Richmond Road.

There weren’t many people about as I drove through Putney and along the Kings Road so I decided to stop wasting diesel and fight another day tomorrow.

A final little £8 ride from Edgware Road to St John’s Wood concluded my shift and I went home to watch Max get buried alive in Eastenders. Best episode I’ve seen for a long time.

Take another cab

In response to some of the negative comments about my actions relating to the woman at Old Church Street, may I say that, as in all walks of life, even us cabbies are humans. What gives people the right to mug us off time and time again? I can assure you that for every one time I may have lost my cool there are ten or twenty times when I have swallowed the situation and done nothing but smiled. Something has to give from time to time and inevitably something does.

I was on a roll with the “something giving” last night when I threw a guy and his girlfriend out of the cab at Piccadilly. It was actually my fault but I couldn’t handle the way he spoke to me so he had to go. I stopped outside the Hilton Trafalgar and was asked to take them to Stamford Hill. I should’ve driven round the one-way system and back towards the river but I had a sneaky feeling that Piccadilly Circus was going to be traffic-free as it hadn’t felt like a regular Saturday night. Big mistake. As I drove up Lower Regent Street the traffic was backed up and I just knew I should’ve gone the other way. The conversation had stopped in the back and the fella called out “can we get out of this?”

Me: Not until we get to the top
Him: What did you come this way for it has to be the stupidest way ever to come?

Hackles started rising on the back of my neck but I knew he was right; I just didn’t like hearing it.

Him: You should’ve gone along the Embankment or something.

His girlfriend seemed oblivious to the tension and I heard her say “Ooh!! I love coming this way,” The neon signs on Piccadilly Circus an obvious favourite of hers.
He then continued to show his disapproval at the route and I’d had enough. I pulled over by Lilywhites and told him to get another cab. He wasn’t going to get out at first but eventually did after calling me a few choice names. It would’ve been a stressful journey for both of us so it worked out well.

At that point my daughter rang me looking for a lift home. She was at Tinseltown, a 24-hour bar-diner next to the meat market. I used to go there for my dinner break a good few years ago but now it has sort of become trendy and is full of all sorts of undesirables.

Tonight’s shift went extremely well as I had three hours with the meter on rate 3 when it would normally be rate 2.

The first job I did from Paddington took me out to Acton and on the way back in I trapped in Wood Lane going further in to Notting Hill.
Back at Paddington it was in and out and a scruffy looking man with Burger King in his hands asked to be taken up to Spaniards. I was going to ask for twenty up front but I never. He was talking quietly on his phone and it seemed to me like he was arranging a reception committee for me as I heard him say “I’ll ring you when I’m approaching”. Most of Spaniards Road is heathland so I was wondering where we would be stopping for my impending mugging when he told me to take a right into the former site of St Columba’s Hospital which is now, and probably has been for a long time, luxury flats. All’s well that ends well and he paid me £20.

The rest of the shift went without a hitch and I was finished and indoors by midnight watching Shameless with a tray of BBQ wings and a glass of milk.

Tomorrow is a Bank Holiday here and the meter is on rate 3 all day again so it should be another good shift.

G’night all.