The View From The Cab.

I have carried many manner of people in the back of my cab, ranging from Princess Alice, the last grandchild of Queen Victoria and Members of the House of Lords, to ordinary folk like you and I. Throughout those varied journeys I have enjoyed conversations and shared recollections of past events and how London, and life in general, has evolved. Today, however, I was reminded of an occasion that I hope and pray that I will never have again and you never have personal experience of. It was some years ago now, when I used to work late into the night. I picked up a lady who needed to catch the last train home from Liverpool Street Station. The journey was passing uneventfully until her mobile phone rang. I switched of the Intercom not wishing to overhear her call but after a few moments I heard her crying. At first, I will admit, that part of me did not want to enquire as to what had occurred to change her demeanor from happy to sad but I felt compelled to ask, anything else would have seemed rude and uncaring. It transpired that she had just received news that her nephew had been raped……How do you deal with that?


About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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