Wicked

I woke up at nine and could not go back to sleep.

Lists of things in need of my attention rumbled through my brain like the sort of train that crosses America, with problems tagging on to one another like third-class economy carriages.

I do not have any problems really. These were just tiresome musings, as my just-awake self worried that I might forget to get shoe polish and lettuce, and considered the wording of the next stiff letter I would write to One Com, and wondered if the black insect I had seen on the windowsill might have been a flea.

In the end I fidgeted so much that Mark woke up as well, and we had coffee, yawning.

I know that nine o’ clock does not sound like a very uncivilised time to get up, but we had not gone to bed until half past four, and so from our point of view it was the middle of the night.

We had been very late to bed. Friday night had been very full of revellers, and not terribly full of taxis, which kept us busy. Mark had a wicked customer who not only refused to pay, but objected to Mark’s dress sense and aimed a punch at him, which knocked his hat off.

Mark usually wears a hat, even in the taxi, because he does not have very much hair any more. The top of his head gets cold, and wet when it rains, which he says is a handy early warning system for bad weather.

Best of all he likes to wear the cashmere flat caps from Johnston’s of Elgin, which are warm, and soft, and light.

Fortunately the wicked chap did not steal the hat as well as knocking it off.

Mark was very cross indeed, not just because he had been assaulted, but because they had just driven all over Kendal dropping people off, and the chap owed him sixty quid.

Mark thought the chap was cross and embarrassed because he had been trying to get a lady to come home with him, and in the taxi she had declined.

It did not help that taxi drivers are not allowed to hit people back, otherwise your licence gets suspended whilst the council think about it for six months, and Mark would have very much liked to punch him on the nose.

Of course he did not do that. He rang the police. They said that they would send somebody straight away, but they must have been having a night out in Blackpool or something, because it was an hour and a half before eventually they turned up.

They listened very sympathetically, and said that it was very sad that people got assaulted and robbed by their customers. Misfortunately the chap had not answered his door when they knocked on it so there was nothing they could do until next week when they were on day shifts again, and perhaps Mark might like some counselling in the meantime.

Mark refrained from expressing his opinions, because we know from previous experience of the police that there is no point in arguing, and came to try and make at least some money before everybody went home.

He was still cross when we woke up this morning.

We decided that we would help the police with their enquiries by sending the chap a bill and chasing him through the small claims court, because although sixty quid is not a lot of money, it is a jolly lot for somebody to run off with. 

He was not a poor man. He was a man with a big warehouse business in Kendal. 

We thought perhaps he was going broke, otherwise he ought to be able to afford a taxi. 

It is not easy to think charitable thoughts sometimes. Probably the chap was just drunk and would feel guilty in the morning. 

Of course we did not sit in bed feeling cross all day. After a while we got bored with contemplating wickedness and got up. Mark went to carry on glueing new bits into the camper van engine, and I emptied the dogs and did things in the house before we went to work, which is where we are now.

We have not had any wicked customers so far this evening.

I am sure you must be relieved to hear it.