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Football Crazy

Rejoice. Football‘s back – well, the teams are, if not the fans and atmosphere. And when the season’s over, it’ll start again almost straight away.

Following a team is a bit like being a member of the cab trade itself.  It’s in the Cab driver’s nature to view the glass as half empty. Most of us come at it from an angle of scepticism. If you support an inconsistent club you’ll make a fine cab driver. This is because your aims are realistic. Arsenal, Tottenham, or Modern-day Chelsea fans aren’t the best disposed towards a cab driving philosophy because they are accustomed to success. If you expect success in the cab trade you are setting yourself up for failure. You might enjoy a bit of a cup run, but you’ll never make the Champions League.                              

I was known to have enjoyed a bit of sport with supporters of Millwall Football Club in my book about the cab trade, but it was always done with affection. You see, inside very cab driver there’s a Millwall supporter trying to get out. OK, not an actual Millwall fan, but an individual harbouring a similar fatalistic philosophy. We hope for the best, but expect the worst. We want to earn good money, but we rarely do. We want to be liked. But if we are not liked or respected we are thick-skinned enough to be able to take it. “No-one likes us, we don’t care” is Millwall’s most famous song – brilliant! It perfectly encapsulates the inner-Millwall supporter inside us. We are everything that the young, ambitious, corporate wage-slave isn’t. We play poorly as a team. We constantly fail to meet targets. We set goals that we cannot reach. And if you’ve ever see a group of cab drivers converge on a café, it’s like a mob of Millwall fans turning up at your local. That’s your quiet Sunday lunch with the missus gone.                                                                                                       

Driving a cab I’d often be asked to drive people to Arsenal or Chelsea games as their stadiums are pretty central. Runs down to Millwall were quite frequent too, but usually with foreign visitors. Many tourists like to take in a football game while in London. Unfortunately it’s not easy to get hold of tickets for Premier League games, so they invariably end up in the badlands of South-East London. it’s not so bad around the New Den these days, but relations between West Ham and Millwall have never been warm. Driving down there with some Norwegians once I had to explain to them why I took my West Ham air freshener down before we arrived.

Should you be tempted to show any football allegiance, you are setting yourself up for all sorts of problems. Other cab drivers love commenting on your team’s humiliating defeat after the day’s results have come through. Clocking my West Ham sticker another driver would invariably draw alongside to deliver a cheery, “I see West Ham lost again at home, Heh Heh!” Even if they have won I don’t like being told the result. I rarely watch live football on TV or listen to it on the radio. In traditional fashion I wait until I get home on a Saturday to watch Match of the Day with the wife. Many passengers are up for a chat about football if they know you are a fan. I like football, but I don’t understand it. I’m happy to talk about the general aspects of being a supporter, but things can get technical. Once someone wants to discuss the nuances of England’s midfield engine room I change the subject to flower arranging or something.                                                                                                

I used to go to matches regularly, but I only make a couple of games a season now at most.  I always seem to get lost at the Olympic Stadium. In the half- dozen times I’ve been there I must have walked a different route from the stadium to Stratford Station on each occasion. One night I walked around the no-man’s land around Stratford and Hackney for ages. It was dark and I didn’t recognise any landmarks: though I guess a football stadium and one of the biggest shopping centres in Europe should be distinctive enough for most people.  I never even attempted to use Hackney Wick station instead of Stratford. In the cab I was always fearful of being asked to go to Stratford or Hackney Wick: the area has developed at an alarming rate, and I can never keep up with the road layout changing so rapidly.

I expect to see out the season sat at home, so I’ll catch a few games on TV. I was alarmed at the introduction of artificial crowd noise. I feel the same about that as I do canned laughter on TV comedy programmes. I was surprised to learn that players are being encouraged to avoid contact. West Ham’s defenders have been avoiding contact all season, so no change there.  Everything is getting back to normal.

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Painter Man

Many of us have enjoyed a forced holiday recently, and this has presented the opportunity to catch up on tasks that we’ve put off for months, or even years. I made a fair stab at painting walls and a ceiling, and did a just-about acceptable job on the front door with sticky black gloss paint. Thankfully the cat’s half-black anyway.

I’m painfully aware of my lack of practical skills though, particularly after experimenting with different work. I hate working in the run-up to Christmas so I left my cab at home and signed on at a local temp agency. A stint in an office or warehouse would excuse me from working the cab in December and hopefully take me through the cab trade’s flat-as-a-kipper season after New Year.

After just a few days I was offered the position of Assistant Caretaker at a local secondary school. On arrival I was given a map of the school site. It was a big school. The caretaker said he’s known people take five years to learn it. It was like learning the Knowledge of London.

I thought a caretaker would sit in a shed all day drinking tea before changing a couple of light bulbs and perhaps move a TV set in a cabinet into a classroom. Taking down the Christmas tree would provide a bit of extra work in January, but I was prepared for that. The poor chap was rushed off his feet, and this is where I came in as an extra pair of hands (he told me changing light bulbs takes a full two days). When he left me on my own I just hoped the boiler lights didn’t turn red, or there was an outbreak of Legionnaires disease (such eventualities have to be prepared for).

I was surprised to learn how involved a caretaker’s job is. I’ve always been in awe of people who can do stuff, and not just write about it. Even unlocking the school gates looked complicated. I can’t even dress for practical work. The caretaker had to lend me his waterproof coat. I only have clothes suitable for beach holidays, sitting in a cab with the heater on, or going out on the town. It was a humbling experience.

In the end I only worked 8 days at school, either side of Christmas. It was intense physical work and I wouldn’t want to do it again. It was a good experience though. As I was sweeping leaves, digging up moss, stacking chairs, and carting bit of wood and metal on a trolley to a skip, I knew I was doing useful – nay, essential – work – but it wasn’t really me.

I realised that I didn’t know how practical things work. I’m not from that world. It’s alien to me. I’m more comfortable with a pen than a drill. I’m more into ideas than practices. Hard work to me is agonising over sentence structure. I don’t know how to use a drill properly, or how to arrange the collection of a skip load of metal. I did a lot of soul-searching while at school. Is it just me who doesn’t know how to put a shelf up?

One interesting thing I learned was that no-one notices the cooks, cleaners and caretakers. For 8 days I was part of the invisible workforce. I came away knowing more about myself, but with a respect for the invisible people. Back on the Goldman Sachs rank I’d watch someone sweeping the street and I wonder what story he had to tell.

I’m sure many of us have thought about doing different work recently. You might find you were happier where you were, but it’s a valuable exercise in self-awareness.

The Good Life

Since the Covid-19 lockdown, I’ve vowed to support local businesses wherever possible. In the area around Leighton Buzzard I can buy milk direct from the dairy and beer direct from the brewery. Self-sufficiency is the logical next step…

I’m not going to start keeping chickens in my garden like the Good family from the 1970’s comedy series, The Good Life, but I have retrieved my old home-brewing equipment from the loft. I wasn’t expecting much from my first brew in several years, as I’m still practising my skills. My brew is based on a kit from ‘Wilco’s.’ The kit method is easy – it’s just sterilising the equipment that’s a bit of a chore. Everything needs to be scrupulously clean. Bacteria that can taint beer needs to be eradicated.

Three Brewing Methods (& Fermenting Taxis)

There are three main beer-brewing methods: kit, extract, or full mash. With a kit, the malt comes mixed with hops and pre-boiled. You basically just bung a can of malty gunge into a bucket with water, sugar and yeast. You keep it somewhere warm for a few weeks to ferment, then put it somewhere cooler to allow the beer to clear. If you have a taxi that you’re not using for a couple of weeks, park it somewhere warm and it’ll make an excellent site for your fermenting bucket.

Bottling it…

When the beer has cleared it can be served from a pressurised keg or a collapsible polypin. The beer goes off quickly, so unless you’re a hard user you might want to bottle some of it. This takes a bit of work and it can be messy, especially if you lose control of the syphon and flood the kitchen floor with sticky beer. Thankfully the wife was asleep when I disinfected twelve swing-top bottles in the bath and went to work with my syphon in the kitchen.

Fish Batter & Remaining Upbeat

I bottled twelve litres and added a teaspoon of sugar to each in order to help secondary fermentation. I sampled it after the recommended time.

The resulting brew wasn’t quite the apex.  It was drinkable, but not something I’d like to be served in a pub. I’m not drinking it neat but mixed with lemonade it makes a decent shandy. My cheap beer will also be used to make fish batter. As to the stuff left in the barrel/fermenter, it’s little better than vinegar. I’m not sure if this is recommended by gardening experts but I treated my sunflower sprouts to a gallon of beer, and they seem to be thriving.

It was a useful experiment and I remain upbeat. My next step will be to buy a boiler and brew up malt extract and fresh hops to my own specification, but I need to get rid of several litres of dodgy ale first to free up the bottles.

Man Cave on Tour

How’s this for a blokey activity? The Home Brew Shop in Farnborough are offering an All Grain Mashing Course. £36 buys you five hours practical tuition on mashing grain, wort chilling and sparging techniques. You are encouraged to discuss hops, grain and yeast with other like-minded folk. A buffet lunch is included, and tea and coffee are available all day. For added excitement, you are invited to bring samples of your own home-brewed beer. Perhaps bring the missus for a romantic day out – you might need someone to drive you home. Or maybe take a taxi?

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(Article written for Taxi magazine).

Since applying for my cab licence in 1985, I’ve seen the Knowledge from all angles: from Knowledge Boy to driver; plus, two short spells as a Knowledge examiner. I only wish I could remember it all!

As a Knowledge of London Examiner, I’d often reflect on when I sat on the other side of the table. Some of my colleagues could remember the details of their appearances at Penton Street or Palestra, but some of us older ones couldn’t remember things so clearly. Dave Hall remembers his time on the Knowledge, of course. The “Smiling Assassin” remembers everything. He passed out at about the same time as me and has a detailed memory of many of his appearances. I don’t remember any questions I was asked. I don’t even remember which examiner gave me my Req (wreck). I remember a few of the examiners though. I know my first appearance was with Mr Fryer, but I don’t remember the details. I remember Mr Miller. I didn’t meet the dreaded Mr Orme until we both attended an examiner drink-up session at Dogget’s many years later. “The Gentleman”, Mr Lippitt, was my role model when I first became an examiner, and Steve Thomas took on that mantle later on, once I’d settled into my position at Palestra.

Austere and Formal

I’d be terrified if I had to have an appearance now. I joined TfL at the same time as Mark Gunning and Kathy Gerrard. I wouldn’t have liked to have been on the other side of the table from those two! Maybe I had less fear in my twenties, or perhaps the Knowledge was a little easier in the 1980’s? Although, the examiners were more austere and it was a bit more formal than it is now, London was smaller and less complex. For example, Canary Wharf didn’t exist, and hotels didn’t change their names every week. The examiners might have made things difficult for you, for their own cruel amusement – but they usually stuck to Points that might be asked by a real live cab passenger.

With Points changing so frequently we were all guilty of asking for places that no longer existed – Ghost Points. Well, the Mirabelle restaurant still looked open to me, and how did I know that St John’s Wood police Station had closed months ago?

Where the buildings still physically existed, ghost points were seen as legitimate. Illegal turns weren’t, and we’d have to be sure of ourselves for allowing or penalising manoeuvres we weren’t certain about. I penalised someone for turning right from Prince of Wales Road into Kentish Town Road. It’s completely legal; in fact I completed that turn myself driving in to London that very morning! I had to make a humiliating phone call to apologise. One chap turned right into Cosway Street from Marylebone Road. It sounded wrong, but I wasn’t 100% sure. My computer wasn’t switched on so I couldn’t check it out quickly. I’m sure he went on a Knowledge web forum afterwards to boast how he turned over an examiner. Fair play to him.

Examiners didn’t always agree with each other in interpretation. Coming from the east and setting down at Marylebone station was a bone of contention. Opinion was divided: all the other examiners said you couldn’t do it, I said you could. Mark Gunning was adamant that you had to make an illegal U-turn, whereas I maintained that you turn right into Harewood Avenue, then turn again into Melcolme Place. The matter still comes up on Knowledge web forums.


Some people are let down by nerves. I ran some mock appearances at a Knowledge school when I finished at TfL. Candidates would invariably perform well, but up at The Towers they’d lose it.

Candidates have been known to declare themselves ill when they’ve seen Dave Hall come out to call them in. People have collapsed in the waiting area. At least one person couldn’t wait to use the toilet before being called, and went inside the examination room.

Occasionally, someone would put in for an appearance before they were ready, and would fail to answer a single run, but generally if you’ve got as far as having appearances you know you can do it. The Knowledge is very democratic: it doesn’t matter where you come from or what your background is. Aziz from Afghanistan was better at the Knowledge than I ever was, as were a few others. We always looked forward to the arrival of Vera. She was extremely good at the Knowledge and she had a delivery as calming as the shipping forecast.

Anyone who has completed the Knowledge can show a high level of determination (remember that around 70% of those who start the Knowledge give it up). You have proven study skills and you can retain information. The permutations of possible driving routes in London are complex. If you can handle the Knowledge you can show analytical skills, as your brain is constantly computing road patterns. After the Knowledge I felt I could do anything – even become an examiner.


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Remembering the Knowledge

(Original edit of article written for Taxi magazine – currently available on-line).


Since applying for my cab licence in 1985 I’ve seen the Knowledge from all angles: from Knowledge Boy to driver; plus two short spells as a Knowledge examiner. I only wish I could remember it all!

As a Knowledge of London Examiner I’d often reflect on when I sat on the other side of the table. Some of my colleagues could remember the details of their appearances at Penton Street or Palestra, but some of us older ones couldn’t remember things so clearly. Dave Hall remembers his time on the Knowledge, of course. The “Smiling Assassin” remembers everything. He passed out at about the same time as me and has a detailed memory of many of his appearances. I don’t remember any questions I was asked. I don’t even remember which examiner gave me my Req (wreck). I remember a few of the examiners: I know my first appearance was with Mr Fryer but I don’t remember the details. I remember Mr Miller. I didn’t meet the dreaded Mr Orme until we both attended an examiners’ drink-up at Dogget’s many years later. “The Gentleman” Mr Lippitt, was my role model when I first became an examiner, and Steve Thomas became my role model later on once I’d settled into my position at Palestra.

I’d be terrified if I had to have an appearance now. I joined TfL at the same time as Mark Gunning and Kathy Gerrard. I wouldn’t have liked to have been on the other side of the table from those two! Maybe I had less fear in my 20s, or maybe the Knowledge was a little easier than in the 1980s? Although the examiners were more austere and it was a bit more formal than it is now, London was smaller and less complex: Canary Wharf didn’t exist, for example; and hotels didn’t change their names every week. The examiners might have made things difficult for you for their cruel amusement, but they usually stuck to Points that might be asked by a real live cab passenger.

I’ve dived in and out of the trade, but I’ve always returned. I had ten years out of the trade doing other things. After much study – and a failed attempt to become a teacher – I eventually became a careers adviser. I left school without qualifications so it was an uphill struggle to get to university. I knew I could do it because I’d passed the Knowledge. Anyone who has completed the Knowledge can show a high level of determination (remember that around 70% of those who start the Knowledge give it up). You have proven study skills and you can retain information. The permutations of possible driving routes in London are complex. If you can handle the Knowledge you can show analytical skills, as your brain is constantly computing road patterns. After the Knowledge I felt I could do anything. The grass wasn’t greener on the other side though. I soon became disillusioned with the so-called professional world, and I returned to the trade in 2010. The following year I became a Knowledge Examiner; the best job I ever had.

As I write, TfLs Knowledge of London department is closed. Prospective taxi drivers are unable to sit their exams and their examiners are temporarily unemployed. Those currently on the Knowledge have plenty of time in which to strengthen their skills until their next appearance. No-one need lose ground. Those who were intending to apply to start the Knowledge can start learning runs now, before officially signing up. The Knowledge take-up was falling. Now could be a good time to start. There have been periods in the past where short staffing resulted in long waiting times between appearances. There’s no longer that problem. The current examiners were enjoying a lighter caseload, so sign up and now and give them something to do!

It’s true that those on the Knowledge will be wondering what their chosen trade has in store for them, but cab drivers are all refugees from somewhere else. They join our trade because their jobs aren’t what they used to be: there could be more restrictions, less autonomy, less job security; and a reduction in real pay.

Older drivers are justifiably more negative, and newer entrants are justifiably more positive. It depends on your expectations. My expectations on income were higher thirty years ago, and the expectations of drivers who came before me in the 1970s were higher still. I accept that income levels are unlikely to ever return to those of 1988 when I gained my badge, and nobody in the trade now expects that level of trade to return. Those who’ve only been in the trade a few years have realistic expectations. They just want to see a return to recent levels, then to improve modestly. I’m sure things will recover. Everything in the taxi and private hire world has been shaken up. It’ll be interesting to see how people move around when the dust settles, and how the work is shared out in the new order.

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Adapt and Survive

(Article written for Taxi magazine).

The cab trade has a proud history. We all worked hard on the Knowledge, and most of us had the intention of continuing the hard work once we earned our badge. None of us went into it thinking we’d end up claiming benefits. Unbelievably, that day has come.

In times of crisis some people turn on each other. If you read the gloom & doom cab forums you’ll see the fake news and rumours. You’ll see opposing factions arguing with each other. Some virtually call drivers scabs for attempting to work. Others consider those sat at home as lacking commitment. It all comes from frustration of the situation. Many of us feel like working, but the fact it, there’s virtually no work. It wouldn’t be worth me driving in from Bedfordshire to cover one twenty quid job. It costs me that in diesel to get to London and back.

The current situation doesn’t only affect the drivers. There’s a support network crumbling away to dust: the mechanics who keep us on the road; the radio circuits and app providers who supply an increasing proportion of the work – and of course, our valued customers. Around 22,000 taxis – and over 90,000 minicabs – rely on fuel. How many fuel stations will be left in business this summer? The cab manufacturers would have taken a hit: few drivers are going to invest sixty-grand in a new cab until trade levels improve. We have no idea when our customers will return, but they surely will. The trade has gone through crisis before and we’ve always recovered.

The virus has taught us that we’re all inter-connected. We sometimes take for granted the carers, shop staff, postal and bank workers, the distributers and drivers, refuse collectors – and many others. We have more appreciation of services and products; how things are provided who provides them. We have a new appreciation for those who we rely on to make our daily lives better. We can see that the highest value jobs often pay the least money. I believe cab drivers will be more appreciated too!

My wife and I do our own thing as to work. I’d normally be coming back from London, and she’d be getting her own taxi to the elderly care home she works at, in Wing, Buckinghamshire. She was on scheduled holiday when the lockdown came, and was dreading returning on April 1st. We then found there were no taxis working in Leighton Buzzard! With a poor bus service it was down to me to get her to work. That’s fine, but I then had the dilemma of whether I should look for work myself. I’d considered applying for temporary warehouse work, but I now needed to be home at a certain time.

I’m trying to use my time wisely. I’m getting things done, whist re-charging my batteries and enjoying the sun. I always worked weekends and bank holidays. Last year I vowed to have a couple of days off this Easter and enjoy it. Careful what you wish for, eh?

Change is disruptive, but it forces you to think and reflect on your life and where you’re going. Unexpected change can present new opportunities. Why not read? Write? Study? Consider different ways of working when you return to work. It’s easy to get set in your ways and carry on old practices when they are no longer effective. Only a few years ago, most work was for cash, and was found by cruising the streets. Things change. You probably won’t survive on street work alone. Find a circuit or app that suits you, but don’t become a slave to it. When you depend too much on someone else to provide work you lose your independence. Being independent is what we went into the cab trade for, right?

Don’t worry about Uber, they have their own problems. If you want to pursue a new career, do it. Don’t just sit on your arse typing out gloom and doom web posts. There’s no need to tell everyone else how bad things are. We can see that. But it’s temporary. Things will be radically different in six months. Once back in the saddle we can move on again, hopefully to a brighter future.

We all need to think seriously about where we are going, and keep our options open. When I started feeling the chill wind of middle age I took stock of my situation and considered how I was going to spend my September years. I couldn’t imagine myself driving in from Bedfordshire when I was 70. I’d prefer something office-based and closer to home. Thinking ahead, I started a Diploma in Applied Health & Safety over a year ago. I de-licensed my cab on March 23rd. My nine-year old cab had become an expensive burden and I was throwing money at it to keep it going. I wouldn’t have survived the lockdown without the de-licensing money. While I’m looking for work as a health and safety adviser, I’ll need to decide whether to return in a rented cab after the lockdown. I have a history of dipping in and out of the trade, and while I have a badge I remain part of the London taxi trade.

It’s crucial that we all pull together and stop the in-fighting. It’s important that all drivers join a trade organisation – preferably the LTDA, the organisation with the most credibility. We must take part in the consultations that affect the working environment. While things remain uncertain, we need to be moving in the right direction.


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Taxi Noir: Heroes & Villains

(Article written for B-C-ing-U)

As the virus continues, there’s untold pressure and uncertainty for every working person in this country – and around the world. Well before the lockdown came, work in the cab trade had dried up. London emptied out. Cab drivers were going back to their old jobs or looking for new ones. Garages were having their rental cabs returned. People were even renting parking space to garages so they could store their returned cabs!

First the pubs and restaurants were closed. Next came the lockdown. By the end of March you needed a good reason to be on the streets. Some authorities set up checkpoints. It’s rather un-British to have to stop at checkpoints to show the Polizia your papers – though in reality it’s probably no worse than being stopped by Transport for London spooks at the St Pancras cab rank.

When the crisis ends, some of us would have survived the financial ramifications, some of us wouldn’t. Most of us have taken a financial battering. The country will be poorer. The NHS are at breaking point. In times like these it’s time to look at who are doing their bit, and who should be doing more. We should boycott the corporations who avoid paying tax. This tax could have been used to support the NHS. I used to buy quite a bit from Amazon (Uber in a warehouse) but I’m looking at alternatives. By patronising companies like Amazon I am part of the problem, not part of the solution. I always try to support local heroes rather than multi-national corporations, but like most of us, I can be lazy and unthinking. I am painfully aware that my shopping habits over the years have contributed in driving the butchers, greengrocers and fishmongers off the high street and into the supermarkets or on-line retailers. The few independent businesses left need our support. We need to think about the bigger picture.

The way people think has changed. We can see that the real heroes aren’t TV celebrities, but are the people doing essential work, but all too often for low pay and little job security. I’m not interested in what celebs are going off the rails, or who are wringing their hands after coming out as gay. Forget Harry and Meghan moving to North America to become full-time celebrities. They don’t have to queue for a virus test in a car park.

The British work best when their backs are up against the wall. We get by with a sense of humour. I’m sure most of have been sent darkly humorous jokes, or videos of people singing silly songs about the virus. People were pulling together. We felt more interrelated – even though we weren’t going out and social interaction was conducted through the TV, radio or social media. We were all in the same boat, and that boat’s going to be rocking when all this is over.




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I’m Brewing for Britain!

No work, no pubs. I was up in the loft earlier… Let’s Cook!






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Taxi Noir: Brewing Up a Storm

(Article written for on-line magazine, B-C-ing-U), published today:


As I sit at my PC typing this, the wind is howling outside. We’re advised not to venture out unless our journeys are essential. The port of Dover is closed. Flights are cancelled and there’s a 50 miles per hour speed limit on the train network. Some trains aren’t running at all. Some areas are flooding. Power cuts are imminent. At home, the cat won’t go out into the garden, and the rabbit is grounded on safety grounds.

This country rarely experiences extreme weather, and we’re never fully-prepared for it. When the first snowflake drops, the roads and rails grind to a halt, and all the schools close; just in case they face legal action for forcing children out into the cold. The authorities don’t like us moving around as it causes accidents and incidents that they’ll have to deal with. Transport providers don’t like us clogging up the roads, trains and buses; or causing a jam at Sunglasses Hut at the airport.

As much as I like to pretend I’m driving my rig across Alaska like on TVs Ice Road Truckers, anything more than a dusting of the white stuff and I’m on my way home. Conversely, when the first rays of sun hit our shores, the great British public head to a pub garden to order a pint of lager with a wasp in it. Others strip off and lie around drunk in our parks. Or try to get into cabs in Soho. We need to be wary. Driving in hot weather is very debilitating, even in a cab with air-conditioning.

Normally I’d be working Sunday on the cab. I’m not scared to drive into London. I’m only at home because I’m booked in for a family meal in a Hertfordshire pub. I decided to have a rare Sunday off because of today’s Winter Run and the widespread road closures the event requires. To my surprise the Winter Run was called off on Friday, two days before the event. By then I’d committed to my family lunch and I was already in holiday mode. Storm Ciara they called it. As if giving it a name makes it more serious and official. The follow-up storm a week late was named Storm Dennis – not such a glamorous-sounding name. Who thinks up these names?  Well, my twelve-mile drive to Harpenden was essential, as is any visit to a pub. It passed off uneventfully, though people in many places did have serious problems.

So the Winter Run was cancelled because of a bit of wind? Surely scheduling a run in February comes with the risk of, er, winter-type weather. That’s why it’s called a Winter Run. A winter run could be expected to feature ice, snow or wind; and I’d have thought that a proper runner should be able to cope with those conditions. They’re not landing a passenger jet on an icy runway.

In some countries they drive on snow and ice. I guess they’re used to it. Everything shuts down here. Remember the “Beast from the East” two years ago? At the end of February and the beginning of March 2018, I lost four days’ work because of snow. Little over a month later we had three boiling hot days. April 19th was the hottest April day since 1949. Typical British inconsistency.  Of course, under Brexit we are now free to import more extreme weather from non-European Union countries, so maybe we need to get used to strange weather.

I had a friend at university, Finnish Erik. He thought this global warming thing was great and looked forward to seeing palm trees in Helsinki. That was over twenty years ago. Since then we’ve been made aware that the hottest places in the world will become inhabitable in the future, and that folk are starting to move from hot places to more temperate ones. I wonder if there are property investment opportunities in Greenland?

Anyway, I expect that when you come to read this all the extreme weather will be over and we’ll be looking forward to a bright warm spring…



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On Your Bike

(Original edit of article written for Taxi magazine – out this week):


Last summer there was an epidemic of people whizzing around London on motorised kids’ scooters. They were getting in everyone’s way and causing accidents. When it was pointed out that it was illegal to ride scooters on both public roads and pavements, the police went to work. It was widely reported that they’d stopped hundreds of people. A few were arrested, but most were let off with a lecture on the law. It appeared that time was up for these adults that had never grown up, but I hear that the powers that be are thinking of legalising scooters for road use.

This is the modern day response to illegal practices that the authorities can’t be bothered to stop. If a law is too much trouble to enforce, they just legalise it – especially if the mode of transport in question has two wheels. One of the first rules I would have learned on my Cycling Proficiency Test in 1971 would have been to never overtake on the inside. Doing so would have been considered near-suicidal. In fact, cycling in a big city would have been strictly for headcases. But here they come, zooming up the inside of cars, cabs and lorries all over London. Never mind if you’re indicating a left turn, they’ll carry straight on oblivious to the danger. They assume you’re going to look before you turn, and they assume you’ll let them undertake you. Usually, but not always, the cyclist gets lucky. Undertaking was officially sanctioned when they set up cycle lanes on the inside. Not all roads have this facility, but cyclists take it that they can undertake on all roads, whether marked out or not.

A couple of years ago we were warned that motorists were going to start getting fined for encroaching on the cyclists’ advance stop line. The advance stop line was soon accompanied by cyclists’ traffic lights that turned green before the main motorists’ light. This was another neat remedy for something that the authorities didn’t want to take responsibility for. Cyclists always accelerated through the lights before anyone else, and legalising it absolved everyone from stopping it. Anyway, the advanced stop area is now full of motorcycles. No-one appears to have been ticketed, so perhaps it’s only a matter of time before this practice is legalised. Motorcyclists also think they’re being clever by undertaking on the cyclists’ lane. I can’t imagine this being made legal, but I doubt anyone’s going to do anything about it anyway.

Nobody’s going to do anything about adults acting like kids, riding plastic scooters down Oxford Street. They can’t be bothered to keep unauthorised motor vehicles off that road; a road that is essentially a bus lane. I can see what they’re doing. TfL failed in their plan to close Oxford Street to motor vehicles entirely, so they’re just waiting for the situation gets worse before trying again. Inadequate signage gives the impression that nobody really cares. The lack of enforcement backs this up. The attitude is, if no-one cares and there are no sanctions, it’s pretty much legalised. Like cycling up the inside, or riding scooters, skateboards, and segways on the road. When congestion and pollution increases, and more accidents happen involving minicabs and vans, they’ll try again to push through a total vehicle ban. With half of Oxford Street westbound currently closed, we can see how the future might look like.

There is widespread apathy from those controlling the streets. They’ll close streets off in order to make the motorists’ life harder, but allow others to create hazards. As far as I remember, cycle rickshaws started appearing about thirty years ago. They were a nuisance back them, and they’re still here. Unlicensed and unstable, these carriages of carnage are being ridden by dubious characters charging those with more money than sense £40 for a ride along Oxford Street. Neither TfL, nor a succession of London Mayors have done anything about the menace. Could we say the same about Uber? That matter is in the balance. TfL have deemed them to be unfit to provide minicabs in London, but they are still operating.

Finally, are all these vans emblazoned with advertising authorised to drive around Buckingham Palace? I thought commercial vehicles were banned. It’s not as if there are no police officers around. No, if I was running London all those vans and rickshaws would be gone, and if I saw Prince Harry riding down The Mall on a skateboard I’d nick him too.

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Policing the Police

(Original edit of article for TAXI magazine this week).


One of the big scandals of 2019 was the fake English language tests for private hire drivers. English proficiency was rightly being tested by Transport for London at designated centres. Test certificates could also be obtained through equivalent qualifications gained at private colleges. Journalists investigating this weak spot found they could simply pay a sum of money and be awarded a certificate without sitting a test. A BBC journalist paid £500 to buy a qualification. When the resulting television expose was aired TfL had questions to answer. They thanked the journos for all their good work and promised to look into the matter. Would there be a Christmas knock on the door for minicab drivers who had bought certificates from a Mickey Mouse college?

TfL appeared to act decisively, but the matter should have been looked into from the outset. Transport for London is the gatekeeper of taxi & private hire legislation. They have the responsibility to those working within the trade, and to passengers, to ensure everything is above board. It shouldn’t be left to the media to investigate suspicious practices. TfL said they were “deeply concerned” and “will support the relevant authorities with any wider investigations into these organisations.”  I thought TfL were the relevant authority: they are the authority who issue taxi and private hire licences, and they involve themselves in everything imaginable that happens on London’s streets; including closing roads at will, and telling us how to conduct our business. If TfL are the police, who are policing the police? I’m not sure where the mayor is either. This is happening on his watch, in his city. Where is the geezer?

TfL refused Uber a new licence towards the end of the year. I don’t know whether the ban will hold this time, but TfL are evidently aware of suspicious goings-on in the murky world of private hire. Since private hire licensing rocketed with the coming of Uber there have been insurance scandals, serious customer data breaches, and a huge crime rate amongst drivers that Uber have tried to cover up. There are many people driving minicabs who aren’t who they say they are. Those in the know in private hire circles can put you in touch with a tame doctor who can provide a guaranteed trouble-free medical without having access to your medical records. When I renewed my taxi licence I had to make an appointment with an optician, but I understand that even this isn’t necessary in the weird and frightening world of private hire. Private colleges should have been scrutinised along with all the other possible loopholes in minicab licensing.

Has the insurance matter been resolved? Are Uber drivers telling their insurance companies that they are working in areas they are not licensed for? Wolverhampton and Brighton come up a lot in discussions on cross border hiring: would a Wolverhampton-licensed driver working in Brighton be adequately insured? Don’t ask TfL, they’ll let someone else work that out. Cross-border hiring will surely continue to be a talking point this year, but our licensing authority will wring their hands and hope it all blows over.

Taxi complaints are handled directly by TfL. Complaints are taken seriously, though not as seriously as they were under the Public Carriage Office when the Police were running the show. Private hire complaints are handled in-house by individual operators. We only get to hear of incidents if they are serious enough to interest the media. Uber never took complaints seriously and that’s part of the reason why they were denied a new London licence, and why they’re sure to go through another very long and expensive court appeal.

TfL drag their feet looking at complaints, but move like greased lightning to bank the licence money from around 113,000 minicab drivers (outnumbering by at least five times the number of taxi licences). When I worked as a Knowledge Examiner a couple of my colleagues would photograph suspicious activity by out of town minicab drivers and report it. The camera footage would be sent upstairs, but we’d rarely hear back. They were undoubtedly too busy selling licences to act on evidence of illegal activity that was handed to them on a plate. The fact is that handling complaints doesn’t bring in any money. Issuing licences does. I’ll be hoping for a lot more from our licensing authority this year.

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