Sunday, November 11
It was still dark early this Sunday morning when I picked my first fare up, a guy with an overnight bag and a face glowing white in the last of the moonlight. Shakily he told me he was going to Furness general Hospital for one of their weekend queue busting surgery parties. He seemed very tense and nervous, and so being the kind considerate guy that I am I started some small talk. "You know how all the female nurses on TV hospital dramas are all like glamour models?" I asked. "Ohh yes " he stammered nearly smiling, "well in real life they are all look like Russian shot putters, only not quite as feminine " He groaned in appreciation of this useful titbit and so I decided to tell him more. "You know when they say--this won't hurt a bit" I asked. "Yes" he said brightening up "well" I said "they are lying." When we reached the hospital and he was getting out, I hopefully pointed to his new looking expensive boots "what size are they?", I asked innocently "I take a ten myself" He didn't answer me but I must have put his mind at rest, because he ran into the hospital.