Dearie me, once again an uninspiringly quiet day, and a blank page of diary to be filled.
Nevertheless, as you know, I do not like to leave any day unrecorded, and so I have been racking my brains to recall any small incident which might interest you.
Alas, only the one has come to mind.
This one happened last night. Of course last night was Saturday, and so intoxication and general half-witted behaviour abounded. The night club was open and it was a night of inadequately-attired young women and cheerfully bawling young men.
This particular incident involved three gentlemen who got into my taxi late in the evening.
Had the one who sat in the front been alone I might very possibly have refused to take him, on no real grounds other than I just didn’t like the look of him.
Obviously this is not a good reason to refuse a customer. If I declined to carry anybody who was especially ugly or bizarrely featured, or even tastelessly dressed, then my income would be considerably diminished.
He was ugly as well, in an impoverished, rat-faced sort of way, with a broken nose and a close-cropped haircut, but that was not the reason for my reluctance, more a sort of taxi-driver sixth sense that some people are just not worth the trouble.
The others seemed all right, although they were an inexplicable set of companions. One was similar to the first in dress and appearance, but the third was a smoothly polished, neatly dressed Indian gentleman.
We had barely set off when the chap in the front started to go on about the fare, and his opinion that he was being robbed, so I stopped.
I explained that I had no desire to rob him, and that at this point he could get out if he wished and get another taxi at no cost to himself for the journey so far.
He declined this offer, and possibly because they had already had something of a wait for a taxi, promised to say no more for the rest of the journey.
He managed to contain himself until we were almost at their destination, which was an hotel staff house almost exactly ten pounds distant. At this point his anger burst forth.
Ten pounds, he explained, was an extortionate amount of money to be paying for a journey for which everyone knew ought to cost no more than three pounds.
Obviously you should pay less than a moderate bus fare for a personal chauffeur to convey you in warmth and safety to your front door, when you are very drunk in the small hours of the morning.
He thought, he added, that I was not an honest person, that I was a thief and a rascal and a rogue in every way.
He did not phrase it quite like that. I have avoided using his exact words in case there is anybody of a sensitive disposition amongst my readership.
Suffice to say that he was very rude and shouty indeed.
His parting shot was to lean in through the door and demand to know if I thought I was a lovemaking person from Pakistan, fleecing people in such a matter. Then he stormed off, leaving the door open.
The Indian gentleman in the back and I looked at one another, and we both apologised at the same moment. Then he paid the fare, and I remarked that really I had not much liked his friend
“He is not my friend,” he explained courteously. “I am his area manager, at least until we get to work tomorrow. Then he will be unemployed. Goodnight.”
It is so lovely to encounterjustice in this world.
Apart from that it has been an uneventful day. We were in bed by five, and slept correspondingly late, after which Mark cleaned the taxis and I busied myself with laundry and catering.
We are on the taxi rank now, saving up for some new tyres for Mark’s taxi, and a trip to Asda.
And those are the highlights.
See you tomorrow.
