TAXI DRIVERS-LONDON'S WIKIPEDIA!!

My first visit to London this summer and I fly into London City airport.   Small, compact and beautifully formed, unlike all other airports around our city.

My first driver greets me with the words, "Here's a customer who looks as though she enjoys life", I confirm I do and have many bad habits which seems to open the floodgates of my hippy-ish looking chauffeur.   He asks if I have ever smoked weed!!!

I say yes, many years ago and from City to Eaton Place I take notes on how to buy the Female seeds online, the best time to buy, how to plant, how to water, and when to harvest.   I thought I might try to grow a few plants in my greenhouse in Italy and I gladly lap up all the information.   I have since thrown away the back of my landing card and so am none the wiser but it was a fascinating interlude and I didn't begrudge the arm and leg it had cost me to take my forty-five minute trip home.   I also realised this form of gardening was probably illegal!

This man should be a teacher and I tell him so.   His final words are, "Have a good harvest!

My time here has been taken up with visits to doctors, dentists, hair colourists, and the usual people one has to visit when one is an ex-pat and therefore taxi drivers have become part of my daily life and they have not let me down.   Each one is a law and a story unto himself.

I usually try to find a non black taxi, red, white, anything but black because the drivers of other colours are usually more fun.   Black taxi drivers can be moody, old, smelly and generally bad company.

I always smile as they stop and if I get a cheery hello I know I am in for fun.   The old drivers merely say, "Get in", or nothing at all and whatever conversation one begins is met with silence.   Sometimes I even bang on the glass if I really feel like talking and very often receive a scowl.   These are the people who I only give a twenty pence as a tip.   You know they would like to throw it at you but dare not.    The smiley, fun ones get at least fifty!   I gave my hashish driver three pounds!

The last three taxi drivers have all picked me up in Oxford Street outside Marks and Spencers and brought me home and have all been characters.

Immediately I have told them where to go they have asked if, "That actress lady still lives at Number 15", and I have confirmed yes she does.

The first informed me that he had picked up her daughter and driven to actress-lady's front door and the poor girl was in a state because she was late.   Actress lady comes out dressed up to the nines, ignores my driver and slams the taxi door lams into poor late daughter.   Taxi Man informs me she has a mouth like a dustbin and that he taught his fellow drivers several new swear words over lunch.

My second driver informs me he has collected her on several occasions and that she is definitely Older Than God and why do the papers keep saying she looks 45  and isn't she wonderful for her age.   I tell him she probably uses two kilos of cement on her face every day!

My third says that at 8.30 in the morning without her wig and make-up she looks a little like Cliff Richard and why do the papers keep saying he looks wonderful.   He also looks like Old God without his wig and sun tan!

I have known this lady for about forty years and agree with everything they say and the last finishes off by saying I look good but when I was young I must have been a Looker.   Meaning I also look as Old as Methusela.

I knew actress lady when I worked in the film business and then ran into her again in Antigua where we had just opened a hotel.