One thing about days is that you can eat whatever you want as everythings open. I went to Alexanders Fish and Chip shop behind Finsbury Square yesterday and had a beef and mushroom pastie and chips with a sausage thrown in for good measure. It's hard to explain the difference between this chippy and the countless others around town. Try it for yourself. You won't be disappointed. I met with two of my cabbie mates today for breakfast. We went to Rocco's cafe in Thayer Street and had a full English breakfast. I had an Eccles cake as a dessert but it was a bit rank so I lobbed it.

As I was driving down Earls Court Road earlier today, or should I say crawling, I was hailed by a lady who looked “touched”. Being a watcher of people I can more often than not tell the type of person I’m stopping for. This lady looked troubled and part of me was saying drive off. So the other part of me decided to pick her up, possibly a mistake possibly not. She asked for Cheyne Place in Royal Hospital Road. The obvious route to her destination was blocked with traffic so using my initiative I went to take Old Brompton Road. “Where are you going?” she screamed (I knew she was a nutter). Explaining that the route would be heavy going and that I should go another way she said we should stay on the heavy going route. Fine thought I, it’s her money. A few minutes later I hear wimpering coming from the back. “Oh why is it taking so long?” she was half wimpering half crying. “Didn’t I tell you it would be busy this way?” I told her looking through the rear-view mirror. “What’s the matter anyway, why are you crying?” I added. “I’m distressed” came her reply. “Distressed about what?” said I. “I’m ill” and then the floodgates opened and she started sobbing and wailing uncontrollably. I had seen this coming for a few minutes now so I wasn’t surprised in the least. There was nothing I could do but go with the flow of the traffic but I wanted her out of the cab asap. She quietened down a bit but was muttering to herself. I heard her say, in between deep breaths, “We’re nearly there, we’re nearly there”. Then after a ten second burst of speed we caught the lights at Battersea Bridge and she went doolaly again. “Oh my God I can’t stand this, I think I’m going to die”

Now, it could have gone bad for her here as I was ready to throw her out. She was getting me all on edge with her hysterics. As we were literally 2 or 3 minutes from her home I decided to grin and bear it and humour her. “Don’t worry my darlin’ you’ll soon be home with a nice cuppa and your feet up” This seemed to calm her and within a few minutes we were outside her house with the meter reading £8.40. Cue the final scene. She’s got four pound coins and a serious amount of shrapnel that amounts at best to another £1.50. She starts getting into a panic about it and I tell her to just give me the four pounds and forget the rest. She insists I should take the shrapnel and whilst attempting to pass it through the partition drops it everywhere and promptly collapses in tears again. “It’s OK luv don’t worry about the rest of the money” says me. Next she asks my name. “My name’s Charlie” I answer. “Oh Charlie I’m so sorry about all this. I live at Flat 1, come round later or tomorrow and I’ll give you the rest of the money”. “Look, forget the money, get yourself indoors before you have a nervous breakdown” I’d had enough by now and there was three people watching waiting for her to get out so they could take the cab. She finally walked toward her front door and a very stressful ride came to an end. The three passengers that got in started picking up all the money that had dropped on the floor and handed it over to me. I always keep coppers separate from the other money so it went straight into the copper bag I have in the arm rest. She obviously had emotional issues so I was quite pleased that I never treated her the same as I would a drunk at night.