Sign of The Times

I picked lots of noisy kids up this week, it's the week before the schools go back and so it's the last minute rush for school uniforms. One woman was totally oblivious to her three unruly brats in the back, she just seemed to go into a trance looking at her phone as her kids fought screamed, and then rolled both back windows down and started to throw things out including the taxi firms business cards. Still, she just stared at the darn phone deaf and blind to the chaos in the rear. That was when I braked and pulled over and without saying a word got out rolled up the back windows and placed my new sign that I bought a while back from Lancaster Castle, onto the dash, then I just looked at them for a minute without saying a word. They looked at me and then at the sign and that was it not a peep out of them for the rest of the journey. Funny thing was the mother never said a word, but she gave me a good tip with the fare.

Pub or Home

It was a slow Sunday with few rural runs but two jobs stand out from today.
The first was from Walney Island, I got to the address and was waiting for a minute or two when a guy walked down the garden path towards the car, then he stopped and went back inside presumably to answer his phone which had started to ring. I seemed to be then for waiting ages after that and so I blew the horn, just then another car pulled up behind me and also sounded his horn. Then I spied the guy sneaking out of the house and who then actually climbed over the hedge and into next doors garden to use their gate to make his getaway. What I think happened was that his mates had rung him and offered him a lift instead of paying for a taxi and he was too spineless to tell me and then maybe have to pay the no pick up fee. All to save a couple pounds, I hope he ripped his pants and gets a dodgy kebab for supper. 
The last job of the day was from a pub in Dalton and when the couple finally come out and get in the cab they both say different destinations,” Which one first” I asked no he said” just the one we’re going home” “oh no we are not she says we’re going to the Railway pub”. This went on back and forth between them and got increasingly heated, now then which one do you listen to? After a minute or two I worked out that the guy was the  soberer of the two and took them home, with the women getting more and more abusive to him I was glad when they got out, but as I drove away I could still hear her shouting that she wanted to go to the pub from a few hundred yards down the street.

Dresssenseless

Now you may not believe this but the taxi drivers here in Barrow aren’t really well known for their sense of style. But what with the heat wave which we have been experiencing for the last week or two, some of them have really surpassed themselves some of the tee shirts and shorts look like they were bought on some long ago foreign holiday at a time when the driver had had a good sample of the local tipple. Maybe at some time, they may have fitted as well, who knows but sadly with the ravages of too many pies and fries that’s not the case now. One driver I saw today broke all the rules cargo style three-quarter length pants (guys when you reach a certain age and size just don’t do it) and a black and white vest top way too small, looking down past the glimpse of white calves revealed black socks (pulled well up) and open toed sandals. But all was explained when I saw that he was proudly sporting in his left ear the biggest shiniest bluetooth I had ever seen, the radio waves from this must have caused temporary insanity.

On The Meter

A 15-minute drama, written by Nicholas Hargreaves and Tabitha Konstantine. - We follow the journey of a black cab and it's driver, through three different jobs which are all inspired by true events. Everything that happens, all happens inside of the four doors of the taxi.

https://soundcloud.com/nick-nock-hargreaves/on-the-meter-radio-drama

Numbers Game

A driver’s number or call sign can be very important to him; some drivers want their lucky number or a number that means something significant to them. This leads to drivers trading numbers and even in some cases swapping firms if they can’t get the number they want.  A while back one of our local drivers swapped from number sixty-one to number fourteen because he said "it was too many syllables in sixty-one for him to say on the radio."
 You will find that not many taxi firms have a driver thirteen; I guess you will think that we are a superstitious lot, but round here thirteen is reserved for a call for help. So if you hear your driver shouting thirteen and giving his location you know that you have really spooked him and that you will be surrounded by twenty bloodthirsty cabbies within minutes.

Black Eye Friday

Way up here in this part of the North of England, we tend to call the last Friday before Christmas “Black Eye Friday.”
 It's the day most people finish work for the Christmas holidays and they tend to finish work early about lunch time and they then head straight down to the pub for a long boozy session.
 I find it amusing when it gets to about four o'clock in the afternoon I then start to pick up some of the less hardened boozers when they have had enough and want to go home.  Lots of them are then telling me what a good night they have had; they are convinced that because it's dark that it must be very very late at night. I never tell them any different and just drive them home.
 Once a year drunks I call them the very worst kind of drinker because they just aren't used to it, give me a seasoned drinker anytime.  They take ages to come out of the pub shaking hands, hugging everyone in sight, and then going back into the pub several times for yet more long emotional farewells. Then once you get them into the taxi, the struggle is then to get them out of the taxi at the other end, because you are, their new very best friend in the whole wide world and they want to tell you their life story many times very very slowly and emotionally. Then its handshakes and if I’m very unlucky big bear hugs, but of, course none of my new found best friends ever recognise me ever again.
Still it's all good sport, Merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Pie Eyed

I had two guys and one not so lovely lady in the cab this morning, one of the guys just happened to be gay.
 They had been out all night partying and were still totally steaming drunk. The over the top drunken lady all of a sudden comes out with the classic weird question “is your brother fat because you’re gay then”? 
There was a stunned silence for a minute or two and then the gay man said “no it’s because he eats too many pies” 
 Oh yes, she said," I eat pies too does that make me fat as well?” He just witheringly looked her up and down in scornful silence for a long moment and then they all started screaming and arguing at the top of their voices, luckily they had reached the destination and were getting out by then, boy was I glad to get rid of them.

Long Gone Landmark

My fare was a lady along with her two grandchildren who were roundabout ten and twelve.
She was trying to describe to them the place that she wanted to meet them later on, but was having no success at all. She was getting madder and madder and the grandkids more and more perplexed.
For the tenth time she said almost at scream level “by the bank on the corner down from the Railway Arms pub and the police station.” 
The kids just looked at each other completely baffled.  This is when I interrupted and pointed out that every single one of the landmarks she mentioned had all closed down, some of them many years ago. The poor kids wouldn’t have had a clue what the heck she was talking about. 
This got me thinking about just how many people use landmarks that are simply not in existence any longer. 
I still get asked to go for fares at the back of Stollers in town which is a furniture store which moved to the outskirts of town maybe twenty years ago and the fish market that hasn’t sold a fish for many a year. Or I get asked to turn left at the Astra lights as they recall the cinema which was demolished lots of years ago. There are many more of these long gone landmarks which folk use, as well as names of places which have long been changed some several times over. 
I feel sorry for the younger new taxi drivers who must get baffled by all this ancient history! 
But still it will get worse, the rate that pubs and clubs are disappearing nowadays. You know that most folk use pubs to give directions and so when they are all gone we shall all be completely hopelessly lost!   

No Go Area

A while back now I had a job to pick up two people from nearby Ulverston and take them the hundred miles or so to Liverpool airport. When I arrived at the address I opened the boot ready to load the cases only to be told that they had none to load all they had was a plastic Tesco carrier bag.
Now to me a couple with no luggage going to the airport seems more than a bit strange.
So I asked them to pay up front and then enquired about the lack of luggage. Well the guy said we don't really want to go to the airport, we just said that for convenience but it’s not far from there though. 
He paid me no problem and told me he would direct me once we got off the motorway and into Liverpool. They were a bit of an odd couple with him being older and from this area she being a true scouse who swore every other word. I listened to them argue all the way down the motorway about nowt in particular and just as they were about to drive me mad at last we turned off the motorway. The guy started to give me directions which seemed to take us in circles several times this caused more arguments between them and it was decided that the lady( and I use the term loosely) would direct me the rest of the way. We drove into Edge Hill and then into what looked like a giant demolition site. Row upon row of terraced houses all boarded up with corrugated iron sheets, no sign of life not even passing or parked cars.
 I began to get a bit nervous and asked are you sure it’s round here, yes she replied “just a bit further. So keeping one eye on the road and the other on the passengers I drove slowly on. Ten minutes later she shouted “stop stop” and even before we had fully stopped she jumped out and ran swearing and shouting towards the only house in all the dereliction that had doors and windows. The guy handed me a ten pound note as he got out and said “thanks mate that’s for you none of the local taxis will come down here” I guess that explains the airport story they gave.

Dung Beetle

A nice easy job picking up from the local hospital and ten miles up the road to Ulverston, or so I thought!

My fare was waiting in the foyer shoehorned into what must have been a specially strengthened jumbo size wheeled chair. I would guess that she would have been maybe between 28st (390lb) and 30st (402lbs) and had her right arm in plaster and stuck out at an extreme right angle.

She was with her mother who at maybe 4ft 10in and 6st (84lbs) was the complete opposite to her in every way.

I can’t wheel her declared the mother and looked at me expectantly, so I took a deep breath and started to shove as hard as I could on the back of the wheeled chair. At first, it would not budge and so I closed my eyes and gave it all I had and was rewarded with some movement. I opened my eyes when the victim began shouting at me and found that all I had managed to achieve was turning her on the spot three times. Mother pointed out that one of the wheels still had its brake on so I released that and prepared to set off again.

By this time, the ladies of the WRVS had evacuated the rest of the patients from the foyer and were comforting them with tea and biscuits.

 Off I set with the huge load squealing and shouting directions looking like a dung beetle pushing an elephant turd up an anthill.

When I finally reached the taxi with my Convoi Exceptionnel and I was pondering just how I would load her without any mechanical assistance, she popped up out of the chair like a whale breaching the ocean and shrieked “I can walk you know it’s my bloody arm that’s broken”

With that, she climbed into the front seat of the now lopsided groaning taxi.

I set of staggering back with the chair wondering why she waited for me to push her in the chair when she could walk and why I was daft enough to do it!  

Mother was sat very quiet in the back and daughter sat waiting to be belted up. This was never going to happen even if I could reach round her the belt would never have stretched the vast distance.

Next was the problem of releasing the handbrake which was hidden beneath some unknown part of the daughter’s anatomy, this was achieved with much embarrassed and apologetic fumbling and straining.

“I was ran over by a truck,” the daughter announced when we had set off, now being a sensitive sort of guy I didn’t follow my first instinct and ask her if the truck driver survived, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

Daughter had a loud shrill sort of voice that just didn’t seem to want to stop talking at me. After a mile or two mother quietly tried to interrupt her to tell me directions to the place they were going. This seemed to be a big mistake as daughter shrieked “can’t I bloody talk now you old cow” and this started a full scale argument between them for the next nine miles of pure hell.

Every time daughter shouted at mother, she turned round to face her in the back and in doing so punched me with the heavily plastered arm.

I was mentally exhausted and black and blue by I finally gratefully dropped them both off.

Some days I would rather be a dung beetle!      

Methadone Mad

I had picked an ould lass up from a local doctors surgery and she wanted to first go to the chemist (pharmacy) and collect the medication that the doctor had prescribed for her and then to be taken home.

Now it was late in the day, the woman had really struggled to get into the taxi, and so I offered to go into the chemist and collect her medication for her whilst she waited in the taxi. She was more than happy with this idea and so off I went into the busy chemist shop, only to be confronted by a crowd of people all waiting for prescriptions to be filled.

After a few minutes, I got to the counter and handed the prescription over only to be told that they were very busy and it could take up to half an hour before it was ready. Well the customer was paying for the cab so I went out and checked with her and she was okay with that since she would be sitting all nice and warm in the taxi.

I have not had a lot of experience of the etiquette of a busy pharmacy so I just followed the lead of what everyone else seemed to do. Well that sure opened my eyes to some strange human psychology and behaviour.

The idea seems to be that you hand your prescription in over the counter, then withdraw, and pretend to be looking at the display shelves whilst all standing in a sort of semicircle with all eyes looking towards the dispensing counter. When anyone fresh entered with a prescription, all ears and eyes gave them full scrutiny, with one young woman I noticed tearing her attention away from the male incontinence products she was browsing and stretching to tiptoes to see over the display. Folk seemed to be fascinated by it all and were magnetically drawn towards the counter whenever a conversation was taking place there.

The idea seemed to be that when your prescription was ready they called your name and you went to the counter and confirmed your address and then sometimes the pharmacist had a word about the medication which really seemed to fascinate folk no end. I could see the rapt concentration on the faces as they strained to hear every fascinating word.

Then I saw the look of absolute injury and outrage on all the faces when two people who had only just handed over their prescriptions were called forward within minutes. The agitation spread round the shop like a rampant noro-virus and mutterings were heard all the way from the cold creams to the condoms.  When the two had departed one woman who had more than a passing resemblance to Herman Goering dared to ask the staff why these two interlopers had been served before her.

Everybody took another step towards the counter and listened intently as it was explained that the shady pair had been in for a daily dose of methadone which is a heroin substitute used by addicts. Herman was still outraged and said that that was no excuse especially with “bloody junkies getting priority over us decent folk”.  The pharmacist came out and explained that if they don’t sort the people on methadone out quickly they tend to get very agitated and have been known to kick off and assault staff and cause major damage.  All fascinating stuff to me, then the entertainment continued with a rather seedy looking guy asking at the counter for a prescription to collect. The chemist brought the medication out and the now sweating chap reached for it eagerly, but it was held just out of his reach whilst he was asked for his address. We watched and listened open mouthed as he reeled off at least fifteen different addresses none of which were the right one. The meds were taken out of his reach and he shuffled out of the shop mumbling and swearing.

After what seemed like a lifetime, most of the crowd had been dispensed with and a handful and myself remained looking at the ear wax removal products. The chemist kept shouting out a name but everyone looked at each other and shook their heads denying that it was them. Finally, the thought entered my thick head that I didn’t know the name on the prescription that I was waiting for. So I checked with my fare and yep it was hers, when I went back in to collect it every eye looked at me suspiciously.

 Address please said the chemist you could have heard a pin drop during the embarrassed silence whilst I tried to unsuccessfully recall the customers address. Dohhh!!           

 

What Barrow Taxi Drivers Put Up With

This is a small sample of what our local taxi trade here in Barrow in Furness has to put up with at the weekends. This is happening mainly after midnight when people have pre-loaded on cheap supermarket booze before heading into town. This is why the taxi trade is pushing for 3am early closure orders. Get folk out earlier and drinking in the more controlled environment of local pubs and clubs.

Taxi Nightmare

Taxi (2013) Director Kevin Sharkey Producer Colm Sexton from Kevin Sharkey on Vimeo.
A Taxi ride turns into a nightmare for the driver and the female passenger. Caution: Strong language, racist and drug references. Shot on Canon 600D and 650D. Locations in Temple Bar and Clontarf, Dublin, Ireland

Overkill or Not?

Just got this e-mailed to me! what do you think is this really necessary in this quiet Cumbria backwater or should we not be taking chances nowadays?
Are things getting that bad nowadays that taxi drivers should really be considering investing in one of these. Maybe not but then again think back to just over twelve months ago since Cumbria taxi driver Derek Bird went on a rampage with a shotgun killing twelve people including a fellow driver and shooting and attempting to kill two more cabbies.  

Things people say in an argumant

It was around 11pm last night that I picked up a young man and woman who were constantly arguing with each other from the moment they got in the car. The argument stopped briefly to allow one of them to tell me where they wanted to go to and then it started again as quickly as it stopped.

I didnt want to get involved and just kept driving and saying nothing as on a lot of occasions they do try and involve the driver with questions such as "What do you think then? I am right or is she right?" I don't get involved in other peoples arguments as I just want to get my job done. Get them to their destination, get the fare from them, and move on to my next job.

However, I couldnt help but laugh when the girl says to Boy "You think you are gods gift to women, well sorry to burst your bubble but gods gift to women runs on batteries! :) " --- Made me laugh anyway

The Funeral Party

At first I thought it was a one off but after picking up a few drunken people who had been to funerals, it seems all they want to do is fight each other.

These sad events bring families together, people who havnt seen each other for ages and you would think they would be wanting to talk to each other but when the beer flows all they want to do is fight and argue,

It happened today and even in the back of the car on the journey they were trying to knock hell out of each other.

I did wanr them but they didnt take any notice. I stopped the car and told them all to get out. They apologised and promised that they would sort their differences out when they got home.

The fighting stopped but the arguing and insults continued.

And what was the reason for all this. People who hadnt seen the deceased in ages were trying to stake a claim to the will.

Its a sad case but no excuse for fighting with each other. They should respect the dead persons wishes and get on with life

Twos Company, (Threes a crowd)

Picked a fare up last weekend. A young couple. He sat in the front and she sat behind him in the back. She was very quiet and never once spoke. Not even to say Hello, Goodbye or Thank you except for one sentence which I will come to soon.

He was the opposite and spoke all the way on the short journey of around half a mile. He tells me how he wanted to win the lottery so that he could travel the world and do what he wanted to do.

I then asked him if he was taking anyone with him to which he replied and I quote. "I`d take the young nurse that I have been seeing for the last 4 months. Wouldnt take the wife as shes too boring".

At this point the girl in the back shouted some obscenity at him and exclaimed that they had been married to each other for 2 years and then a full scale argument starts in the car.

It turns out he had been going out at night saying he was with mates and all the time he was with this nurse. He`s only himself to blame as his reponse to her exclamation was "Oh Shit.... You were that quiet I forgot you were in the car. Sorry Luv.."

I was asked to stop the car while she got out, she insisted on walking home so he then paid the fare and walked off after her.

Not my fault I thought so best leave them to it and not get involved so I pulled away and just went onto my next job.

Calm Down

Last weekend Bob (The owner of this blog) was parked up on Holker Street in Barrow when he witnessed an altercation between a man and his wife. I`m not sure of the circumstances but Bob was telling me over the radio what was going on and I could hear it in the background and mid sentence Bob went quiet and I couldn't raise him on the radio.

This got alarm bells going in my head and so I raced off to Bobs location to check he was OK. Bob was fine. I got there after it had all calmed down. it turned out that there was a bit of trouble and Bob had politely told the guy to calm down a bit but then the guy got aggressive with Bob.

It wasn't even Bobs problem. he was an innocent by-stander who just tried to calm the situation.

Whats the world coming to when aggressive cretins like this have a go at innocent people for no reason at all.