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.

Judderbutts

I picked up an old German lady today and a good old stick she is too we were cracking away as we drove along. I was about to turn off down a street when she said “no de judderbutts” this had me baffled for a minute or two and then I remembered that this street had lots of large speed humps on it. I laughed when I realised that this is what she meant. Judderbutts what a great word it describes speed bumps perfectly, go on just say it a few times, isn’t it a great word. Watch out for those judderbutts!

Road Kill

I took a fare out to the village of Baycliff today and on the way out down the coast road, we came across a beat up looking car parked haphazardly on the road with the hazard warning lights on.   As we got closer and slowed to go around it the driver got out and went to the rear of his car and stood looking down at a dead seagull on the roadside. So after that, the fare and I laughed and tried to figure out what on earth he was doing. "Giving it the last rites, " said the fare “no he wants to make quills with its feathers "I replied" or an Indian headdress" he answered.  Or maybe he's one of these guys that likes to eat road kill I said "not much of a meal there" he said, " unless he puts it in a stew."  On the way back into town I checked, and sure enough, the seagull had gone.

Time Out

A lady who I pick up now and again asked me what the time was, I told her the correct time and she went to adjust her watch. I noticed that she set it five minutes fast. Why do that I asked "so I know the time" she said, this had me puzzled and so I asked a few more lady fares and they all seemed to think it normal quite a few said that they had different clocks and watches set either fast or slow” so they know the right time". This must be a female thing because it baffles us guys I can't figure the logic in this even the wife thinks it's perfectly normal. I wonder how many guys check the time at home and assume that the clock is set right.

Glitter

Picked up three passengers early this morning and they all had garish eye makeup on and lots and lots of glitter and blusher.  The only problem was that only one of them was female. The tale they gave me was that they had fallen asleep at a party and someone had given them a makeover, but the guys one of whom carried a bunch of carnations made no attempt to wipe it off and promptly fell asleep on the drive to the nearby town of Ulverston. I had a bit of a struggle to wake them to find the address they wanted and they kept muttering and falling asleep again. We had driven well past it so I let them out and they set off walking through the busy streets, getting lots of amused looks from passers-by.

Kills

I took a guy through to the nearby town of Ulverston today and he was telling me along the way that he was in the army and had recently returned from a tour overseas. He told me that nowadays a lot of soldiers are fed up with the political correctness that has started to find its way into army life. Apparently the old idea of the sergeant shouting or even swearing at new recruits is now frowned upon and a lot feel that this is undermining discipline and in a combat situation could endanger life.
But what did shock me was when he told me that the military no longer keeps a record of confirmed kills on a soldier’s service record. I wasn’t aware they did and if so that’s one that should definitely be consigned to the history books. He then went on to tell me that he had two confirmed kills and I found myself not knowing how to react to that. At the end of the day that’s what these guys are trained and paid to do but no congratulations from me, sorry.

Sentence

I took a guy round to the local Magistrates Court building this week and he had with him a large bag and what looked like all his worldly possessions with him. Are you off somewhere nice I asked little thinking that he would reply" no I'm going to jail." Maybe not I said they may look kindly on you and you may get off lightly, no he said, "I have been found guilty already and I'm up for for sentencing today and they have said it’s pretty certain that it’s time in jail". Not a lot I could say after that I could see that he was worried and nervous, but as they say, if you can’t do the time don’t do the crime. 

Lacquer

My passenger was a young lass of about eighteen years of age and she looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Where do you want to go I asked?  "Dalton” she replied and so off we went to the next town along which is about six miles away, as we got closer to Dalton I asked her whereabouts she would like to be dropped off at. “The lacquer knacker” she replied brightly, I looked at her blankly and said I have never even heard of that, it’s a pub she said looking at me as if I were daft, I still never had a clue and so she said “The golden ball” and then the penny dropped. That was the first time I have ever heard it called that,it must be a local Dalton thing.

The Coin Juggler

I had what I always refer to as a coin juggler in the back of the cab today. I pick this particular type of folk up maybe once or twice a week, and they can be of either sex and old or young, rich or poor but they always sit in the back and try to be discrete. What they do is they watch the taxi meter obsessively and every time it clicks over they move the coins from one hand to the other so that they have the exact fare ready in small change, minus the tip of course! You don’t get very much conversation out of a coin juggler just the soft obsessive clinking of coins, but still they always amuse me no end. What does catch the juggler out now and again is when the meter adds the waiting time on when we stop at lights or in heavy traffic and the meter goes up a few bob, that’s when they tend to juggle faster and then panic and drop all their precious coins on the cab floor.

The Grim North

One of my fare's today was telling me that she was a barrister up here in Barrow on a business trip from that there London and that it was her first time oop north. “Well, what do you think of the grim north?” I asked,” well I was baffled when none of the taxis stopped when I hailed them I had to take the number off the side and ring for one myself,” she said. I explained that most cabs here are private hire and that most hackney cabs also work for company’s when not on the rank. Then she went on to say (which a lot of visitors also say) how green it was and that she had been expecting a grim grey industrial town. Shortly afterwards we were going down from a high point at the top of Hawcoat looking out seawards over Walney Island towards the Isle of Man, and she was impressed by the fabulous views of the miles of empty sandy beaches. “I bet it gets busy during the summer,” she said and was very surprised when I told her that we get very few visitors.” Well someone sure wants their butt kicking “she said anywhere else and they would be promoting it for all they were worth.

Lost Tip

A very nice ould lass who had enjoyed her cab ride went to give me a nice tip today, unfortunately as she went to hand it over she dropped three of the pound coins. They rolled down the middle of the front seats out of reach, never mind I reassured her I will get them later. I had forgotten all about them and had picked up three or four fares in the next hour or so. That is until a lady in the back seemed to be bending down and taking a long while to get out of the cab at the end of the ride. Yes, you guessed it the three coins had gone, she stole my tip, what a dirty trick eh! The tip actually came to more than she had paid for her short taxi ride, what a darn cheapskate taking food from my mouth. I could have had gravy on me chips tonight!

False Impression

Early one morning I had a call to pick up from what I thought was a really dodgy place. My screen just gave the flimsy location of school playing fields in the nearby town of Dalton, when I got there I could see absolutely nobody about, not even the usual early morning dog walkers and was just about to give up when four lads appeared out of the gloom as if from nowhere. 
They all wore bulky dark clothes and hoodies with most of their faces covered and looked pretty dishevelled, I was half inclined to do the sensible thing and drive off sharpish but business was slack so I decided to chance it. They all climbed in the cab and they asked to go to the next village up which was about an eight-pound fare. I was pleasantly surprised when they paid up front and turned out to be a nice bunch of lads well spoken polite and friendly. 
So I guess it’s true sometimes you can’t always go by appearances.

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.

Prison Review

I always like to listen to people's regional accents and then try to guess exactly whereabouts they are from. Today I guessed correctly that my fare was from the Salford area straight after him saying where he was going to. He was that much impressed that I had said Salford and not the rival nearby Manchester that he strangely decided to give me the full low down on all the many prisons he had been in up and down the country.

 It was like an insider's guide with all the good and bad points of Her Majesty’s accommodation from all over the country. Apparently Armley jail in Leeds is best avoided" the screws don’t like you if you aren’t a tyke". But our local jail Haverigg "is just a holiday camp" compared to most. I just wish I had could have written it all down now, you never know when it may have come in useful eh!

Little Freinds

A mother and her daughter who would have been about seven or eight got in the taxi today at one of our local supermarkets. As it was mid afternoon and after the standard "been busy, and the weather's crap" conversation I said "no school today then" nodding towards the lass in the back who was sat there looking bored and scratching her head.
 "No, she came home with some little friends yesterday," the mother said scratching and shaking her very long head of hair. I didn't know what she meant by this, but she must have noticed my blank baffled expression and so she went on to say "aye it only takes one kid whose parent doesn't treat them and the full class has them" Again I looked at her blankly for a few seconds and then noticed that both mother and daughter were scratching their heads in unison. Then the mite-sized truth dawned on me and the irresistible urge to scratch my own head started to torture me. Being the polite type, I resisted the urge to scrat for the long long two miles till I got them home and out of the taxi. I spent the rest of the afternoon itching my head after that, just like you are trying to stop yourself doing now!

Reluctant Fare

I went to pick up a guy from a house party this Sunday morning and when I arrived outside the house he came staggering out and gave me the fare and sent me away. This was the second time he had done this strange thing that morning.
He explained drunkenly that he had not yet had enough beer to go home and face the almighty rage of his wife "she’ll rip my face off and feed it to the dog" he said." Can you send me another taxi in half an hour, I'll have a few more beers" he said. How many more taxis he paid and sent away after that I don’t know perhaps I should have parked around the corner and kept going back for the money every twenty minutes.

Proportions

I was talking to a guy today about the rules of percentages and proportions and all sorts of interesting stuff. When I dropped him off  I thought of a few rules that seem to apply whilst working as a cabbie especially in certain areas of Barrow.
 Please don't take offence cos I'm only messing!

#The scruffier the house you pick up from the better the mobile phone they will have with them.

#The amount of rubbish in the front garden is proportional to the screen size of the giant T.V in the front room.

#The bigger the rottweiler the more outrageous the kids names, come on Porsche, Gypsy, Paris, Buster, Diesel gerrin the taxi)

#The complaints about lack of cash are directly proportional to the amount of times that they are picked up from the bingo hall or boozer.

#The slower they limp out of the house when they think somebody is watching the quicker they run into the off-licence (grog shop for our foreign readers) when you drop them off.

#The bigger and more pretentious the house the lesser the chance of a tip.

#The scruffier the house you pick up from the more blingy the jewellery worn by the fare.

#The more expensive the trainers the lesser the vocabulary usually limited to innit,nectar,latta,mingin,wotever,

There And Back

It has seemed really strange picking up the one- half left of an elderly couple who have been regular fares for a good few years now. When the lady was alive up till a month or two ago it was her who did all the talking, simply because the ould chap was very deaf and it was hard to have a conversation with both being in the back seats of the taxi. The first time that I picked him up when he was alone I made sure that he rode up front with me so that we could have a proper conversation.
 It was a seven-mile trip and so after offering condolences for his loss I started to ask him about his life and times past. It wasn't easy with me having to talk really loud and repeat myself a few times but wow it sure was worth the effort. Amongst other things, he told me the story of him being posted to Japan within months of the Japenese surrender. He shivered as he told me about the horrors he saw when passing through Hiroshima on the way to his first posting. Then he broke into a smile as he told me how he was the butt of a practical joke by his sergeant within the first week of his duties of transporting military vehicles between bases.  The sergeant made him memorize a phrase in Japanise,  which remarkably he could still clearly recite, this was to be used when he was stopped by the Japenese military police.  Laughing he said it seemed to work every time, but he found out later the reason they looked at him so confused was because he was actually saying in Japenese "There and back to see how far it is."    
I have had a good talk with him on the few times that I have picked him up since but couldn't help but notice the deterioration in him lately, he really is struggling. Today he was telling me about his health problems and then he told me how his doctors had given him a list of his ailments that he had to have on display prominently at home in case he collapsed.  I was left struggling for adequate words when he went on to calmly ask me what Alzheimer's meant because that was one of the ailments on his list.

Silly Sausage

This morning after four or five supermarket runs, I found that I had acquired a spare packet of sausages in the boot. I didn’t know exactly which fare had left them behind and so rather than waste them I handed them to my lucky next passenger with the words “there you go you’ve won the sausages every tenth fare gets a free half pound of sausages”.
I don’t know if she believed me, but she seemed very pleased with her sausages.