The cabbie’s nemesis?

18 May, 2012 at 11:41 am | Posted in Driven mad in London | Leave a comment
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Addison Lee

According to a London Chamber of Commerce report around 3.2 million people take taxis and minicabs in London each week, even if each fare averages only £10, that means total annual revenues are in excess of £1.6bn, with a windfall to come with the Olympics in a little over two months’ time. Where should a Londoner’s cab-riding loyalties lie – with Black Cabs or private hire including Addison Lee?

Well as any service industry, it should be with one that provides the service you require at a price you are willing to pay, and in this John Griffin Addison Lee’s Chairman has a good business model.

By taking on low skilled drivers, with many who are recent arrivals to our shores, and providing a complete package: vehicle, uniform, SatNavs, vehicle cleaning and phone, he has no shortage of takers. But many find working the long hours needed to make a decent living too much and leave after the first year.

Their enthusiasm sometimes stems from the novelty of having a job. A lady once told me of an African Addison Lee driver carrying her suitcase full of books up six flights of stairs balanced on his head.

Griffin has form when encouraging his gullible drivers to break the law. He declared that they should drive up the M4 bus lane. As traffic enforcement on motorways is the responsibility of the police, quite naturally they had more important things to do than catch Griffin’s miscreants. Eventually the bus lane was scrapped and Addison Lee got their way.

The same seems to apply to Paddington Station’s new entrance. The signage clearly states no vehicles except taxis – and yes you’ve guessed it – Addison Lee seems to be exempt while all other private hire vehicles are excluded.

As a London Black Cab driver of over 15 years I’ve seen our customer base diminish year on year.

When our only competition was a rusty Datsun with an aerial affixed to the roof by means of a magnet, Black Cab drivers would frequently decline jobs. “It’s not on my way home”, “I’m not going South of The River”, “Sorry Luv, I’m not going there”, “That suitcase looks heavy”. The excuses were endless.

It’s hardly surprising then that London Cab usage has declined when some of my colleagues felt their wishes came before their customer’s reasonable requests.

The younger London cabbies are more professional, with newer vehicles on the road and with a plethora of apps available from established radio circuits as well as independent developers we are starting to take back work.

You might not want John Griffin to run TfL but it has taken a maverick like him to shake the cab trade out of its complacency.

Where should a Londoner’s cab-riding loyalties lie? I would suggest dear punter that it’s you who is in the driving seat and not the other way round.

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Not a good sign

15 May, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in Driven mad in London | Leave a comment
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Beach warning

On a recent trip to Dorset I was obliged to the local authority for erecting a sign which informed me that the adjacent beach was subject to flooding, it’s always good to know what hazards lay ahead.

In London we have to blame King Henry I for the plethora of superfluous signage littering our streets imparting useless information. The good king deemed that a street could not be named as such unless it was paved and was wide enough for sixteen knights to ride abreast, while a lane had only to be the width of a beer barrel rolled by two men.

This Royal Declaration must have started a growth industry in signage that has continued to this day and is now cluttering every road in London.

Huh

“Humps for 263 metres”, “New Road Layout Ahead”, “Signal Priorities Changed”. Am I really going to check the distance I’ve travelled to ensure that I won’t encounter another street calming obstacle, or that I’m so bright my memory can clearly remember the timings of every traffic signal in London?

We now employ somebody to type drivel into a gizmo that controls the M25 overhead gantries, they give us such gems as: “Road Ahead Clear” with the approximate time it will take you to reach a destination you have no intention of reaching.

Only last week while driving along the A12 the Olympic Delivery Authority shared – via a matrix board at the side of the road – the priceless information that trials were taking place within the Olympic Park.

Sign not in use

Frequently we’re told, just in case there was any doubt, that “Sign Under Test” rather implying that the upper sixth is taking its finals and we should be quiet lest we disturb the examination.

Each time I pass a sign announcing “Concrete Curing” I have visions of a group of men in high-viz jackets performing a laying on of hands to make the road better.

Once I naïvely thought that they had been put up for the benefit of the public, but of course they are for the benefit of the erectors of the signs. So obsessed are they in our liability culture they put up these signs so when asked they can reply “well, you were warned”.

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Thinking inside the box

11 May, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in Thinking allowed | Leave a comment
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Boxpark

A common complaint nowadays is that our high streets are being decimated by the recession, with boarded up gaps, looking like missing teeth, between every shop that is managing to stay afloat.

At first it was your local butcher, baker and greengrocer unable to compete with the large supermarket chains. Once they gave up trading the mega-giants of retail moved into open their own “local” version of their ubiquitous brand while offering the same products as that of the displaced retailers.

Inevitably over time most moderately successful high streets in medium sized towns all looked the same as fashion brands copied the supermarkets and swallowed up independent clothing retailers.

With every high street identical with only the order they appeared along the shopping parade one entrepreneur has taken this trend to its logical conclusion – Boxpark.

In Shoreditch in what’s dubbed the world’s first pop-up mall – an Americanism if ever there was one – Boxpark comprises of 60 identical shipping containers over two levels each 2 metres wide by 6 metres deep and all of them painted black, each with identical signage with none displaying the famous logos that clothing brands have spend millions perfecting and promoting. Nike, Puma, Calvin Klein – they all look the same.

The idea taken from Puma City store in Boston and Illy Cafe in New York was conceived by Roger Wade and erected on the site of the defunct Shoreditch High Street Station that has remained empty for 40 years.

Located on the edge of “Silicon Roundabout” which the Government is predicting (and investing) to be London’s hi-tech growth centre competing with Silicon Valley in California, it couldn’t be in a better location.

Roger Wade is boxing clever, he has plans to open another dozen of these container parks offering retailers short economical leases with each unit stamped with Boxpark’s unique style.

Could this approach be the shops of the future? The high street is beginning to look uniformly the same, to paraphrase Henry Ford: Soon you can any colour shop front you like as long as it’s black.

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Mustn’t grumble

8 May, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in I'm as mad as Hell | 3 Comments
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1950s cabbie

Mustn’t grumble, which of course is what we Londoners are always doing – roadworks, litter, Boris – you name it we can moan for England. While maintaining an air of cheerful, if somewhat deferential, stoicism we go through life apologising while at the same time keeping a stiff upper lip.

This air of permanent regret can seem bewildering and perverse to tourists. We apologize when bumping into you “Sorry old chap, didn’t see you there”. When you bump into us “So sorry” meaning do that again at your peril.

When we hold open a door for another with the greeting “Don’t mention it” which of course is shorthand for “Please continue to thank me”.

When we might seem to be having a perfectly amiable conversation while in fact disagreeing with every word you have uttered the appropriate interjection is “I’m not being funny, but . . . ” which is a prelude to a socially unacceptable remark.

Punctuality was once the trademark of an Englishman, but with transport in London slowly grinding to a halt you are more likely to get the apology “I’m running 10 minutes late . . .” roughly translated this means “Boris hasn’t fixed the delays yet and I will be there anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour after we agreed to meet”.

And watch out if at a social gathering you hear “I have half a mind to say something . . . ” that indicates

“I am adding to years’ worth of unspoken resentment that you can silence with a very dry white wine”.

Sorry doesn’t seem to be the hardest word as Elton John opined: When we walk into doors, when dropping anything, when we want to butt into a conversation, when flustered or when brushing past you in a pub, when we cannot hear or when hearing all too well as a reflex “Sorry” suffices for what we cannot think of what else to say.

But by no means does saying “sorry” mean the speaker is in fact, well, sorry.

“Probably my fault . . . ” is about as deferential as we get. Take that to mean “This is your fault.”

Frequent apology is one of an arsenal of clever tricks Londoners employ to obscure their true feelings. If the words “Mustn’t complain . . . ” are directed at you take notice, their true meaning is “I have just complained and if you don’t sort it out I will take the matter further”.

Eastenders greet one another with “Alright?” don’t enter into a conversation about your woes, it’s the law of the jungle to show that you are one of them and a friend.

And London cabbies are not immune to this verbal gymnastics, our greeting to another cab driver of “Be Lucky” roughly translates to “I hope you don’t get a job before me”.

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London’s burning

4 May, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in The Urban Landscape | 1 Comment
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Ask any London schoolboy when the Great Fire of London occurred and he will tell you 1666 when 80 per cent of the mediaeval city was consumed in the conflagration. Over the years with very little we have managed to reduce many of London’s important building to ash.

The Crystal Palace

Crystal Palace

In 1851 the world’s first expo was staged in Hyde Park beneath a glass structure so massive mature elm trees were incorporated within its structure. Following its success when 6 million people visited, the prefabricated building was re-assembled in Sydenham on a hill that has since adopted its name. An amusement park, concert hall, theatre were incorporated within the grounds. Even the FA Cup Final was played there until 1923 when the old Wembley Stadium was built. Then on 11th November 1936 it burnt down, so fierce was the inferno witnessed its glow from north London over 20 miles away.

Palace of Westminster

Houses of Parliament

The modern Houses of Parliament replaced the earlier one which had been built over a long period of time. Following the Dissolution the Commons found a permanent home in the Chapel of St. Stephen, the speakers sitting on where the altar had been, which then started the tradition of bowing in his direction. Tally sticks which were once used to keep records of accounts had become so numerous that in 1834 it was agreed they should be burnt in the furnace in the Palace’s cellars. In the resulting fire only Westminster Hall built by William Rufus survived. The building started by Edward the Confessor in the 11th century had to be rebuilt in the Victorian Gothic style we see today.

Whitehall Palace

Whitehall Palace

On the road that took the name when Henry VIII was King there stood Whitehall Palace one of Europe’s largest royal palaces. The area we now know as Horseguard’s Parade was the tiltyard used for jousting and Henry’s indoor tennis courts are now incorporated within the Cabinet Office, the only survivors of that once great wooden building. One of its last additions was Banqueting Hall built of brick by Inigo Jones and is the only complete survivor when in 1698 a Dutch laundry maid had a careless accident and burnt down most of its 1,500 rooms.

London Bridge

London Bridge

The medieval London Bridge had 19 small arches and was crowded with buildings of up to seven stories in height. The narrowness of the arches meant that it acted as a partial barrage over the Thames, restricting water flow producing ferocious rapids between the piers of the bridge, as the difference between the water levels on each side could be as much as six feet. Only the brave or foolhardy attempted to steer a boat between the piers and many were drowned trying to do so. As the saying went, the bridge was “for wise men to pass over, and for fools to pass under.” On the night of 10th July 1212, only three years after the bridge’s completion a fire broke out on the south side of the river. People ran across the bridge to help quench the flames, but this action was to be regretted, a strong wind fanned the flames and sent sparks across the river causing the north end to ignite, trapping the people in the middle of the bridge. There was only one way out over the side into the Thames where a large number of boats had gathered hoping to be of assistance, some of which were sunk by the number attempting to board. The number of bodies recovered was around 3,000, but this did not include the people incinerated in the fire, their bodies were never found.

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Quality Street

1 May, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in The Urban Landscape | 1 Comment
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Buckingham Street

A rare view of Buckingham Street, by John Niemann, 1854,
where Dickens lived briefly in 1834. David Copperfield lived here too.
Note the York Water Gate in the background, still visible today.

In a little backwater between the rear of the Savoy Hotel and Charing Cross Station there is a small cul-de-sac which once ran down to the river’s edge. On the site that once stood York House former mansion of the Dukes of Buckingham, its 20 or so houses look for all the world like a street of small mid-Georgian period houses that can be found all over central London.

Buckingham Street was built before 1680 by Nicholas Barbon London’s first speculative builder. What makes this little unprepossessing street so unique are the sheer number of celebs who once lived here, so many that a whole series of that unlamented television series ‘Through The Keyhole’ could be devoted to these twenty-one houses.

The houses at the northern end of Buckingham Street are smaller than those nearer the river and have been used for many years for commercial purposes.

According to The London Encyclopaedia a Who’s Who of Buckingham Street has among its former residents:

Number 9: Beauty and one of the greatest actresses of the 18th century, Peg Woffington and Laurence Holker Potts inventor of the piling system for building foundations carried out experiments in his workshop there.

Number 10: Was once home to Scottish philosopher and Father of the Enlightenment David Hume and Jean-Jacques Rousseau, later postimpressionist painter Henri Rousseau resided there as did Thomas Russell Crampton, engineer who laid the first submarine cable between Dover and Calais.

Number 11: Groom of the Bedchamber to James II Thomas Bruce, 2nd Earl of Ailesbury also Victorian artist Arthur Rackham once worked there.

Number 12: London’s famous diarist Samuel Pepys. A later occupant was Queen Anne’s Treasurer Robert Harley who invited Jonathan Swift and William Penn to dinner at his home. Mary, Countess of Fauconberg daughter of Oliver Cromwell. The scientist Humphrey Davy carried out some of his most important experiments in the cellar.

Number 13: Dr. William Wellwood who served as physician to King William and Queen Mary and Dr. James Coward who wrote several works on the soul, which were ordered in 1704 to be burnt by the Common Hangman, since the House of Commons considered they contained offensive doctrines. William Jones, mathematician, was a friend and fellow worker of Sir Isaac Newton and Edmund Halley.

Number 14: Samuel Pepys who liked the street so much after nine years at Number 12 he moved next door to Number 14. Robert Harley Speaker of the House of Commons who later became Chancellor of the Exchequer started his book collection here and later the library was bought by the nation for £10,000 and formed a nucleus for the British Museum. Artist George Clarkson Stanfield was born there and fellow artist Charles Calvert had lodging. Sir Humphry Davy famous for his invention of the miner’s lamp.

Number 15: Russian Peter the Great stayed a while although some historians dispute this claim. Authors Henry Fielding, creator of Tom Jones and literary giant Charles Dickens also resided here

Number 19: Lord Drumlanrig, afterwards 2nd Duke of Queensbury who in 1707 was instrumental in bringing about the union of Scotland and England.

Number 21: English poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

But most bizarrely of all Napoleon Bonaparte stayed at an unknown house in this same small street.

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Sugar Daddies

27 April, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in The Urban Landscape | 1 Comment
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imagesCAK0BK0F

With a tin bearing an image of the rotting carcass of a lion surrounded by a swarm of bees is not by today’s standards the most politically correct way to advertise your product. The brand registered in 1904 is recorded by the Guinness Book of Records as having the world’s oldest branding and packaging.

The man who chose that design was Abraham Lyle who set up his sugar refinery in Silvertown a mile downriver from his competitor Henry Tate who famously invented the sugar cube and founded his eponymous art gallery.

Both men refused to acknowledge the other’s presence, even taking separate carriages on the train for their daily commute from Fenchurch Street to Silvertown.

Even though the two sugar barons refused to meet there was a tacit agreement not to tread on each others business toes.

At one point Lyle thought Tate was preparing to launch his own version of partially inverted sugar syrup and in retaliation built a sugar cube plant, whatever was the truth neither eventually copied the other’s product.

It was not until both men had died that in 1921 both companies merged. Surprisingly both factories are still run by a member of the respective families, and workers will never refer to themselves as working for Tate & Lyle, you either work at Tate’s or Lyle’s.

Located on an artificial peninsula – sandwiched between the Royal Docks to the North and the River Thames to the South just half a century ago it was a hive of activity, at the heart of industrial London.

golden-syrupAfter the war more than 20 factories lined the banks of the river. The location was perfect for the factories, being as close to London as was legally possible and providing access to both the docks and the river, where raw materials could be unloaded and finished product shipped away.

Positioned at either end of the so-called Sugar Mile which stretched between them, the factories also had a reputation for looking after their employees well, with an onsite surgery, dentist, chiropodist, eye doctor, hairdresser and even bar open during the working day. There was a purpose-built social club, The Tate Institute – still standing opposite the Thames Refinery, but now sadly derelict – which laid on parties every week with cheap rum shipped in from Jamaica.

A nearby sports ground at Manor Way, no longer in use, played host to football, cricket, netball and other sports, and was where the annual company sports day and beauty contest took place – the latter judged by movie stars.

These days, the number of factories remaining can be counted on one hand, and although Tate & Lyle’s refineries are still standing, they employ a fraction of the staff they once did.

An excellent account of life working for Tate & Lyle has been written by Duncan Barrett and Nuala Calvi: The Sugar Girls: True Tales of Hardship, Love and Happiness at Tate & Lyle’s East End Factories based on interviews with over fifty men and women who worked for Tate & Lyle in Silvertown in the 1940s and 1950s.

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Rank outsiders

24 April, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in I'm as mad as Hell | 3 Comments
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Black and white cab

Try to imagine that you are an American tourist (trust me it isn’t hard). You have booked a trip to Britain and you plan to take in the capital. What goes through your mind when you think of London? Bobbies on the beat; red telephone boxes; red buses and ah yes! Black cabs. I might be wrong, but I would suggest that a top of the range BMW was not on your list.

Not so Olympic Games organisers LOCOG who last week unveiled their 4,000 strong fleet of German vehicles. These luxury limos will be driven by chauffeurs who are undergoing assessment to ensure their driving skills match the test that black cab drivers have to achieve before they are allowed to ply for hire on the streets of London. Depending on the grade given, these voluntary drivers could end up driving a top of the range BMW M5 or delivering parcels in another BMW vehicle.

So if ferrying the ‘Olympic Family’ around the capital was not deemed to represent London, then surely the humble black cab has a part to play in the year’s sports fest.

The cab ranks at the adjacent Westfield shopping centre will be closed due to security fears during the 2012 Olympics at the eleventh hour after much consideration 20 taxi rank spaces have been allocated at Stratford station.

So how do you get to the Olympic site? The organisers have thought this through and to make London 2012 the greenest Olympics in history, bus, train and bike are the preferred modes of transport.

Now forgive me for labouring the point – an appropriate term in the circumstances – but should you wish to leave the Olympics and you are disabled or a woman in labour sharing a train with 80,000 others leaving the venue at the same time might prove daunting.

No problem say LOCOG – who incidentally have paid well over the odds for the building and services contracts to meet self-imposed diversity commitments giving work to firms which agreed to employ disabled staff and not those companies submitting the most competitive tenders – use public transport.

You can of course pre-book a cab assuming you know when you might go into labour or become unwell. Or try to find the odd taxi rank. Early reports suggest that these ranks are located in such obscure places we are going to need all our powers of observation just to find them, let alone a member of the public with urgent needs.

It’s a good job we honed up our observational skills when undertaking the Knowledge, we might need them just to find the ranks.

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Turf Wars

20 April, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in Thinking allowed | Leave a comment
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Rickshaws

Oh, the farmer and the cowman should be friends, were the lyrics by Oscar Hammerstein II for the musical Oklahoma! And one would think by the rhetoric surrounding the pedicab/licensed taxi debate that a turf war was being engaged by the two proponents along the lines of the ranch disputes in America’s mid-west.

Nothing could be further from the truth, the dent in a London cabbie’s income caused as a consequence of business lost to ‘rickshaws’ is miniscule.

Anyone with a desire to climb aboard a pedicab, wants to do just that, they don’t want to undertake a journey in the luxury of a London taxi.

No, the grievances we, the London cab trade, have with pedicabs is that ‘Plying for Hire’ is not practised on a level playing field. We have to undergo up to five years of arduous study while on The Knowledge; have a Criminal Records Bureau check and take an enhanced driving test before we can ply for hire.

Private hire now have vigorous checks upon cab offices and their drivers and they are not allowed to prowl London’s streets picking up passengers.

But pedicab riders can pitch up, undergo the minimum of training, have no formal checks upon their suitability and then pick up tourists including children from the Capital’s streets.

We have to take any assurances from pedicab operators at face value when they tell us of their vehicles’ roadworthiness.

There is also a question on whether just about anyone can buy one of these carriages and go out on London’s roads without even the cursory checks that a pedicab company would undertake.

Public transport in London has been regulated for centuries, in fact it was Oliver Cromwell who first brought some order to cabbies’ behaviour. But now we have a group whose only regulation is self-regulation – it’s just not enough.

But cabbies biggest gripe is the sheer numbers clogging up the streets of the West End, and instances of them riding in contravention of the road traffic regulations with seeming impunity from prosecution.

And this the last point might be just a personal observation, but how is it that large numbers are allowed to congregate around West End theatres at the end of a performance? Not only do they impede pedestrians, including the disabled, if a evacuation of the theatre should be necessary theatregoers would be confronted by a wall of steel preventing safe egress with possible tragic circumstances.

No, if we are to continue promoting pedicabs as yet another London ‘icon’ they need to be regulated. Turf wars it is not, but we do need a level playing field. If not they should be restricted to London’s parks where curiously they are never to be found. Now why should that be?

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The City that never wakes

17 April, 2012 at 1:50 pm | Posted in Thinking allowed | 6 Comments
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Keep calm and carry on

Recently I was in a well known department store which has the proud boast of being ‘the official Olympic retail partner’. There a came across a whole display section given over to London 2012 paraphernalia: key rings, mugs, t-shirts, pencils, all designed to feed our enthusiasm for The Games – and all gathering dust. For sale across the aisle were Diamond Jubilee souvenir goods and amongst the items was a mug displaying the well worn motto ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’. Those five words could have been a metaphor for London’s attitude towards this summer’s games.

If New York was hosting the games Times Square would be ablaze proclaiming that NY would not sleep for its duration, every yellow cab would carry advertising on their roofs and New Yorkers would by now have worked themselves into a veritable lather of excitement.

But Londoners are not impressed by anything, at all, ever, and convey a weary stoicism towards anything connected with the Games. You see we have seem it all before – including the Olympics, twice, in 1908 and 1948, the last staged here because nobody, and I mean nobody, wanted the job.

How different it was for the 2012 Games when countries were queuing up for the opportunity to blow £10,000,000,000 in under three months and then spend their time while the Games were staged in a state of apoplexy.

Our usual annual tourist rush in July and August comprising of noisy interlopers who insist on having a good time and can’t pronounce “Leicester Square” properly will be replaced this year by earnest fellows asking me: “Did you watch last night the men’s 10 x 100m freestyle gallop or synchronised water bobbing?” – Err No.

But for the man on the Clapham omnibus – or should that be Boris Bus? – will take it all in his stride affronted by any suggestion that this summer is going to be profitable, transformative or, worst of all, pleasant.

And after its all over we will congratulate ourselves on organising the best run, most restrained and, well – by gad – gentlemanly Olympics ever.

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