“Took me three years,” said John. “Only three or four years ago. Before that I worked for my dad.” We approach Shepherd’s Bush, go round the roundabout with the white and blue water tower. “I couldn’t get decent work. The pay’s not great doing this, but the freedom’s all right.” I say the hours must be good; you can work when you want to. “But I never see my wife. I’m always out in the nights, ’cos the fares are much better. The days, I prefer. Better when you get a long fare.” I’m coming from Heathrow to town. “It’s easier at night. Less bloody idiots.” A minute later, two schoolgirls run blind across the road, shrieking with laughter. “Apart from them, mind,” he shouts, shoving his hand on the horn. “Watch yourselves, ladies!” And he shrugs. “But what can you say? We’re all young once.”
What’s your favorite thing about London?
“It changes by the week. It used to be Whitehall, down there. I like Smithfields right now. Not much fare up there, though. You’ve got to keep that in mind. Waterloo Bridge, you see everything – Westminster at night, all the City, Canary Wharf at the north side. Albert Bridge lit up like a fairy. And it’s on the way home. The passengers who chat to you like you’re a proper human being. Thank you for that, love.”
(See Sherlock, you should have paid closer attention.)