After a year back in sales it looks likely I’ll be going back to driving my old black cab around London once more. I feel like a crab that lost its shell, grubbing around aimlessly I found it again and I’m edging and shuffling my way back underneath it, to rise up on my feet soon with the shell resplendent back in place where it’s supposed to be.
At least the ‘kipper’ as we like to refer to the baron period after the New Year is over now, lines and lines of empty cabs waiting at stations and ranks all over London. The feeling of triumph at being able to squeeze on to the back of one as no doubt a desperate cabbie had pulled off and gone home freeing up a space for me. A book is brought out of the bag and the pages begin the process of being stared at with moving eyes analysing the words, fingers keen to turn the pages as the story unfolds. The cabs edging slowly forward all the time and the small feeling of anticipation building as the wheels roll.