Saturday and Grand National fever sweeps the town , with every passenger I pickup asking me "which horse have you backed?" and then after the big race it was "well did you pick the winner?" But as strange as it may seem I didn't have a bet on the race, and the only time I go into a bookies is to help one of our disabled customers up the steps. And even stranger, the only time I've ever backed a horse was for a fare whose leg was in plaster, and then I had to ask someone how to go about it!
I hear it time and time again from some fares, about how they have had a big win and fleeced the bookies, but still it makes them happy for a short while as they get dropped off at their grotty flat, but in the meantime the bookie gets into his Rolls Royce and drives home to his mansion in the certain knowledge that his money will be coming back the next day.
I also notice a lot of folk in the bookies and pubs and clubs feeding the slot machines in an almost hypnotic looking trance. I just can't figure it out, what do they get out of it, the lights flash a couple of times and their money has gone. Myself I would much rather watch my taximeter flashing away, and the numbers steadily increasing, now thats what I call a certain winner.