Mrs Moneyprice.

One particular fare that I pick up now and again always drives me to distraction, I call her Mrs Moneyprice. 

Her voice is akin to the dentists drill and she doesn't pause to draw breath from the minute she gets in until the merciful moment she gets out again. Without any explanation or preamble she will start to list exactly what she has bought and is going to splash out on that week.

 Every item is then given its price tag right down to the exact penny, and comments added like "it was the dearest they had” or "I don't do cheap you know." A week or two back she even went into great detail about her new super pricey designer underwear which she then went on to say "was a waste of money because she wouldn't wear it." This was far too much information for a shy sensitive soul like me and I very nearly blushed, but thankfully she quickly moved on to the price of her new designer handbag.

 By the time we reached her house the figures must have racked up to many thousands and my poor head was spinning. As she got out of the cab, even though I had not gotten a word in edgeways she said “Thanks for the chat" but before I could let out a sigh of relief she leaned back in the car and started pointing at her garden and telling me the price of every plant and adornment in sight.