The View From The Cab.

What a great day in London today, warm sun and sights to behold! St.James Park was a vision with the spring plants flowing brilliant shades of colour in the warmth of the sun. The Queen was out and about, showing to us all the benefits of that embodiment of English traditionalism: Afternoon tea. She was at Fortum and Masons, surrounded by others not as regal partaking in the same delight and from where it was officially confirmed that the milk should be added last to the tea-cup. In what other country in this world could a Head of State do such a thing, nor such vital information be shared amongst the common populace? In less tolerant parts, both of these announcements, would be treated as “Top-Secret.” Please pardon me if you found that comment in any way sarcastic, it was not my intension, but on two separate occasions, during my own working day, it would not be truthfully to say, that was not the case.

The first time was when I had picked up one Chap who, when at the open near side window in the act of paying me, sneezed. This is where I shall begin to tell the stories of how my sarcastic behaviour perhaps, over the many years that it has been one of my characteristics, could have landed me in trouble.

“How much is that then Cabbie? Achoo!” He asked adding the sneeze without covering that offending nose.

“£4.80 mate” I replied. Trying as hard as I could to pretend that his lack of common manners, in either directing his sneeze elsewhere than in my direction or covering up in some way, had gone unnoticed.

“Take five pounds then. Achoo.” This time; it was one time too many.

I looked directly in his eyes with a distinct disapproving glare and said: “Well, it seems that I cannot say, that a single sneeze comes free, with every twenty P.” Needless to say I had no apology.

The Second Time.

A small car sped past me in Brompton Road on the approach to Knightsbridge, and the awaiting traffic at the Lights, in a burst of blue smoke and screeching tyres. A few seconds later the brake lights inevitably came on.I proceeded at my normal pace and drew alongside. “Wow, that is some car you’ve got Mate” says I with a smile on my contented face. “I’m not sure what to compliment you on first, your wasted speed or the fact that the brakes work so well!”

As I said, perhaps my sarcasm should by now have been redressed but I’m still standing trying to right what I see as the wrongs of today.

 

 

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About Daniel Kemp

Daniel Kemp, ex-London police officer, mini-cab business owner, pub tenant and licensed London taxi driver never planned to be a writer, but after his first novel —The Desolate Garden — was under a paid option to become a $30 million film for five years until distribution became an insurmountable problem for the production company what else could he do? Nowadays he is a prolific storyteller, and although it’s true to say that he mainly concentrates on what he knows most about; murders laced by the intrigue involving spies, his diverse experience of life shows in the short stories he compiles both for adults and children. He is the recipient of rave reviews from a prestigious Manhattan publication, been described as —the new Graham Green — by a managerial employee of Waterstones Books, for whom he did a countrywide tour of signing events, and he has appeared on ‘live' television.
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