How to hail a cab like a local
20 December, 2011 at 8:57 am | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: Cab passengers
. . . and some Seasonal advice for Londoners
You’ve arrived in London having spent weeks planning your itinerary: Tower of London, Buckingham Palace and Madame Tussauds you want to see them all. But how do you get around the capital?
The best way to travel around London is by Tube. The simple diagrammatic map makes finding your way as easy as joining up the dots by following the coloured lines to your destination. Unfortunately years of neglect have taken its toll on the Tube’s infrastructure, with constant breakdowns and delays.
If you have to interrupt your tube journey (or not start it) you might consider using a bus. We have over 6,000 buses in London; in fact we devote whole traffic jams to their exclusive use. And don’t expect the drivers to give you information, they are trying to manoeuvre a very large vehicle through one of Europe’s most congested cities, they are not your tour manager.
If you have the courage, or possibly feel that life’s not worth living, London offers a free bike hire scheme, be warned though it’s not for the faint hearted. Alternatively your other choice is the iconic London black cab.
A word of caution here. It may look like a cab, it may sound like a cab, but as with many cities rogue taxis proliferate London. A genuine cab has a light marked TAXI on its roof, a FOR HIRE light on the driver’s nearside door and two licence plates one affixed to the rear of the vehicle and another inside the passenger compartment. The driver is also expected to be displaying his badge (a small oval green enamelled medallion). I cannot emphasise this enough, if in doubt walk away. Genuine cabbies will not stop you in the street asking if you “need a cab”.
So you are standing at the kerb, avoid standing at bus stops and pedestrian crossings (they have zigzag markings in the road), we value your custom but with a £120 fine, not that much.
Don’t try to emulate a scene from your favourite black and white film by shouting “TAXI” while simultaneously waving in a frantic fashion; this has the inverse effect on your chances of getting a cab.
If you have enjoyed an evening out tuck in your shirt, don’t try to balance food in one hand while raising the other to attract the cabbies attention and finish the last pint that your mate reluctantly bought you. In New York you aren’t allowed to consume alcohol on the street and you are not going to use my cab as the local hostelry.
Remember lampposts can only hold you vertically whilst you’re leaning on them, let go and you are likely to end up under the wheels of my 2½ tonne cab. They don’t stop like Formula One cars so don’t jump into the road to hail me; it will always end in tears. The last time a London cabbie missed a decent fare America was gaining its independence. When you see a cab approaching with his yellow TAXI roof light on just hold out your hand and look at the driver indicating that you’re in need of a cab and not just scratching your armpit.
London street hail etiquette demands that you converse with the driver before alighting using a slightly differential tone with an upward inflection in your voice in the manner of a question: “Will you take me to . . . ?” It’s as contrived as the Japanese tea ceremony, we are obliged to take you anywhere within 12 miles of Charing Cross by law, but it’s just Old World politeness.
We don’t need the location of major hotels or theatres, by giving the address is a sure fire way of telling us you’re on vacation. It takes four years to become a London cabbie we do know the location of the Ritz, its entrance is a side door in Arlington Street and not Piccadilly.
Don’t expect the cabbies to converse during the journey, it’s your space at the back we should respect your privacy. But if you do want a chat you have the opportunity to increase your appreciation of London.
London’s cabbies are famous for their wide ranging views. You can learn how the politicians of the day are incapable of running the country and that your driver could make a better job of it, or how to bake a Victoria sponge cake.
Seriously London cabbies are proud of their city, use the time on the journey for gaining an extra insight into London. It costs nothing to ask about the sights you are passing. The driver might give you advice on planning your itinerary, and importantly what tourist honey pots you need to avoid.
Don’t become abusive or call the driver a crook by taking “the long way round”. We can all make mistakes and most drivers will adjust the fare accordingly. No amount of shouting or threatening behaviour will get you to where you need to go, if fact no punter has reached his destination in my cab after that kind of altercation.
Well, you’ve reached your destination; the price of the fare is indicated on the meter visible above the driver. But what to tip? Regular users of cabs usually round the payment up to the nearest £1 or £2; approximately 10 per cent is the norm. But if you think the service was exemplary . . .
Next year in London promises to an exceptional time. In May the Mayoral elections come up so will the flamboyant incumbent – Boris – still be in charge? In early June our Queen celebrates her diamond jubilee marking 60 years on the throne. Celebrations include a river pageant and all the pomp and ceremony in which England excels. And in August London hosts the Olympic Games and the Paralympic Games. Tickets are already sold out for the Olympic Games but London is staging the largest cultural event ever to run at the same time.
See you in London next year.
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London literature
6 December, 2011 at 2:42 am | Posted in A window on My World | 2 CommentsTags: London books
It’s that time of year again for when opening a magazine or newspaper you are given a list of suggestions for what to buy as presents at Christmas. So as not be left out here for your Londonophile loved one is a list of book recommendations:
The London Encyclopaedia: Ben Weinreb, Christopher Hibbert and Julia Keay
First published in 1983 this is the definitive reference book to London. The latest edition (2010) has been fully revised, if you need to know about any place or person connected with London this must be your starting point. No book (or website) comes close to the mine of information within this book’s covers. Comprising of 5,000 entries organised alphabetically and cross-referenced, 10,000 people are mentioned in the text and numerous illustrations. It includes everything that is important in the history and culture of the Capital. It should be purchased and studied by any student who undertakes The Knowledge.
London: The Biography: Peter Ackroyd
It was said that when Peter Ackroyd had just finished writing this massive 800-page tome he suffered a heart attack. Nevertheless don’t be put off by its size or scope, this tour-de-force takes you from the earliest settlement by the Thames – or even earlier if you count the geological data – up until near history treating London as if it were a living entity. I know of someone who had read it from cover to cover only to return and re-read it again, but with each chapter self contained the reader can dip in and out of it at will.
The House by the Thames: And the people who lived there: Gillian Tindall
Unlike Ackroyd’s London Gillian Tindall takes you to a single place by the Thames, to be precise a Queen Anne House opposite St. Paul’s which over the last 450 years has seen its fortunes ebb and flow. Reputed, incorrectly, to be the house Sir Christopher Wren had rented while overseeing the building of St. Paul’s the author takes you on a journey through time chronicling the people, trades and landscape of this small area on the South Bank. This is social history at its most enjoyable and last year I made it my Book of the Year.
Bleak House: Charles Dickens
Living at the time in Tavistock House on the site that is now the British Medical Association, Charles Dickens wrote this book filled with characters in London we would recognise today from the menacing lawyer Tulkinghorn to the friendly John Jarndyce a party in the long-running litigation, the subject of the story, disputing a manor in South Yorkshire that has dragged on for generations. It is London at its most chaotic and apart from the dirty conditions and deprivation, a subject that Dickens excelled in bringing to a Nation’s attention, little seems to have changed in the Capital.
The Unequalled Self: Claire Tomalin
For 10 years Pepy’s kept a meticulous record of his life in London at a time described as: “a period as intellectually thrilling as it was dangerous and bloody”. He chronicled not just the big events, the Great Fire of London and the Restoration of the Monarchy, but the minutia of life: calling at the local ale house for lunch, groping the maid in his employment and having a kidney stone removed. Meticulously researched this book gives a valuable insight of the day-to-day life during the period by an author who has that rare ability to bring history alive with her enthusiasm.
On a Grander Scale: The Outstanding Career of Sir Christopher Wren: Lisa Jardine
If you, like me, regard Christopher Wren as the man who most contributed to the London that we know today, you will want this expansive and scholarly biography to get to know about the man who was architect, mathematician, inventor, anatomist and astronomer. The book contains as much detail that any admirer of this man could ever need, and every time you drive past the glorious dome of St. Paul’s you will give a nod of satisfaction having learnt a lot more after reading this comprehensive work. It is quite simply the definitive life of Wren and his works.
The Little Book of London: David Long
If you want a funny fact-packed compendium of strange facts, loony laws, eccentric inhabitants, crazy trivia and information about London this is the book for you. The Times writer David Long who has written a number of London books gives such gems as: After Charles II’s son the Duke of Monmouth was executed for treason his head was sewn back on so he could sit for a royal portrait. Or that The Duke of Edinburgh collects cartoons of him and has them hanging in the Royal toilet.
Walk the Lines: Mark Mason
This is my Book of the Year. Mad he might be but Mark Mason embarked on a mission to truly discover the city on foot by walking the entire length of the London Underground – overground – passing all 269 stations on the way, walking 403 miles and 912,384 footsteps. Yes it is that detailed. Full of facts, anecdotes and personal musings this must be what every blogger aspires to write. It is, put simply, a love letter to a complicated friend, which he celebrates: the sights, sounds and soul of the greatest city on earth.
London Sight Unseen: Lord Snowdon
This beautifully illustrated book by the late Tony Armstrong-Jones is now sadly out of print. One of the greatest portrait photographers of his generation he travelled all over the capital photographing anything unusual that caught his inquisitive eye. The result is a surprising array of unique and varied aspects of architecture so frequently overlooked. With small descriptions on how they came to be built, and for whom and when, showing parts of London even overlooked by a cabbie. This really is a collector’s piece, if you see it in a booksellers snap it up.
The London Nobody Knows: Geoffrey Fletcher
Fletcher has an eye for the quirky, the long forgotten, and the wholly original. Written half a century ago unfortunately a lot of what he described back then is long gone, like the goldfish swimming in the glass toilet cisterns of a Holborn public toilets, but some things remain. The book is more than just a historical curio, the quality of his writing and illustrations make this a worthwhile read. Other books on London may be longer, more comprehensive and more fact-filled, but probably none are as charming, well-illustrated or as fitting a testament to the many eccentricities and quirks of the place we call London as Geoffrey Fletcher’s book.
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Tea for Two
18 November, 2011 at 7:00 am | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: London hotels
Nearly three years ago I wrote a post about the closing of the Savoy Hotel for refurbishment, at the time the new owners had expected to a 17-month closure costing £100 but so many problems were encountered the work eventually took nearly three years. At the time of its closure I expressed the opinion that as many of the antique furnishing and historic artefacts had been auctioned off the quaint faded opulence of the hotel would be lost and replaced with the glitzy look so beloved by the Middle East. As it turned out during the refurbishment the owners received the classic sad shaking of the head, so beloved of builders when they see extra work to be done, accompanied with the words “I think you’d better have a look at what we’ve found”.
But for the Savoy’s new owner it was more than a little problem, in fact the original hotel had been poorly built and the riverside elevation needed extensive underpinning to prevent it falling into the water. Lucky for London the hotel’s owner had very deep pockets for the extra work put another £120 million on to the final buildings costs, as well as losing estimated £500,000 revenue for every extra week and the final bill made it the most costly hotel refurbishment in history.
After watching a two-part documentary on the hotel’s makeover, it was with some trepidation that I joined Mrs. CabbieBlog for afternoon tea at the Savoy, a birthday treat from our son and daughter-in-law. On arrival a small army of doormen greet you, for here they seem to have more doormen than any other hotel in London. The Art Deco canopy above them has been retained and a beautiful glass fountain replacing the rather austere black marble one, which forms a small roundabout in the hotel’s forecourt.
You walk across a huge foyer with a beautiful marble floor, and for those staying as guests you don’t have the inconvenience of reporting to reception here, but are guided to their room personally by a member of staff, which means the entrance is mercifully kept free of queues of those wishing to book in or out.
A trip to the toilet is a must, it usually is at my time of life, but this is CabbieBlog’s tip to get the measure of a hotel’s standards. Immaculate is the only word to describe the loo for my attendant had had many years service at London’s top hotels before taking on the new Savoy. While for Mrs. CabbieBlog her toilet was so beautiful a group of women while in there asked to have their photograph taken.
A brief wait before being taken to our table gave us time to admire the bowls of fresh orchids and an adjacent shop selling pastries, just in case you feel like taking the odd cake home.
The tea room, called the Thames Foyer, for no other reason than it sounds better, is stunning, a young lady dressed in a cocktail dress plays a piano under a stained glass dome, walls painted a muted light grey and golden capitals surmounting the pillars. The only note a criticism would be they have commissioned copies in oil of famous pictures, Gainsborough among others, and they look, well flat after you have seen the originals.
Exemplary service, with clean linen, Wedgwood pale blue bone china, and discreet service, unlike the Ritz where the waiters seem to hover in the background awaiting your slightest whim. This level of service hardly surprising as the Savoy is a member of the Tea Guild and received a 2011 Award of Excellence.
Just don’t eat anything before you arrive. Over 40 blends of tea are available, you are given four types of finger sandwiches replenished if you want more, two scones both plain and fruit, strawberry jam, clotted cream and a subtle Savoy version of lemon curd the best I’ve ever tasted, this is followed by a selection of small pastries and if that wasn’t enough a slice fruit cake of your choice to round off high tea. At this stage I would have preferred a sorbet or crème brûlée, which I was once offered in the Ritz.
As her birthday was celebrated Mrs. CabbieBlog received – accompanied by happy birthday on the piano – a small cake with a candle, and written in chocolate on the plate in beautiful script was Happy Birthday, a fitting end to two hours of indulgence.
The cost for the basic tea is £40, which when you consider what you get for your money as a tourist in London has got to be a bargain – Tower of London, Madame Tussaulds forget – head for Strand and a taste of the England of Yesteryear.
As a footnote, what is wrong with some cabbies? The cab driver who took us to the Savoy had a cab nearly as old as him, he could only grunt and gave the sort of personal service that you could have expected once in Communist Russia. Our return on the other hand was in a new Mercedes immaculately clean driven a friendly cheerful younger man, but maybe after a few more years driving around town he will become a miserable old git.
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25 x 25 x 25
28 October, 2011 at 12:27 pm | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: London's roads
Thirty years ago a friend of mine took our son and his lad for a Sunday afternoon stroll and in the days when civil engineering was not carried out 24-hours a day, he decided, for reasons best known only by himself, to walk along the part constructed M25, thus making our son one of the few 10-year olds to have walked down the middle that motorway.
Our friend was of the opinion that this part constructed road, being so far out from central London, was a waste of money and would in all likelihood remain as empty as it was on the day they took their motorway ramble. It was I suppose his way of showing the future generation the folly of politicians with £1 billion of our money to spend.
Now I give you this illuminating if rather prosaic story of our family because on Saturday the motorway which inspired Chris Rea’s 1989 hit Road To Hell is 25-years-old, and our friend’s original prediction was soon proved wrong for less than two years after its opening by Margaret Thatcher on 17th August 1988 a 22-mile long queue of stationary traffic grew between junctions 9 and 10.
So here are CabbieBlog’s 25 fascinating facts after 25 years of the M25:
The construction was originally proposed in 1911, by the time Margaret Thatcher opened it in 1986 fourteen different Prime Ministers had been in office.
It runs for 117 miles (that is nearly 200 kilometres) and was the world’s biggest city ring road when it was built, now it is only surpassed by Berlin’s Ring at
121 miles.
For anyone who drove a car made in Britain at the time it will not come as a surprise to learn that the first breakdown on the M25 occurred at 11.16am on 29th October, 1986, just hours after Margaret Thatcher declared it open.
Head of the old Greater London Council and a leading lobbyist for the M25, Sir Horace Cutler, discovered to his dismay on the day the route was announced that it would pass through the grounds of his home near Gerrards Cross, Buckinghamshire.
The original design proposed four ring roads around London, but for political expedience in the 60s London County Council tried to keep quiet about their radical plans to build the four ring roads. The truth came out when Battersea Borough Council had a request for a new swimming pool rejected because one of the roads would have been built over it.
More than two million tons of concrete and 3.5 million tons of asphalt were used to build it and at junction 15 the M25 is now 12 lanes wide.
It has 10,606 lights and 2,959 illuminated signs along its length.
Clacket Lane Service Station is the largest service station in Europe, but despite its length and the volume of traffic the motorway has only two other service stations – Thurrock and South Mimms.
Designed with a capacity of 100,000 vehicles per day it now is used by 250,000 vehicles per day. At its busiest part 196,000 vehicles a day were measured in 2003 between junctions 13 and 14 near Heathrow Airport.
It has 33 junctions some of which are four levels high.
The highest speed recorded by police on the M25 was 147mph, in 1992 by Leslie Coe in a Porsche 911 – he lost his licence. Last year there were 793 accidents and eight deaths.
If you were able to drive at a constant 70mph, it would take an hour and 40 minutes to complete a full lap of the route.
One of the strangest items found on the motorway was a table tennis table amongst the tons or rubbish the Highways Agency maintenance crews have to clear off the hard shoulder each year.
According to the AA, the question most frequently asked by motorists on its online route planner is: “How can I avoid the M25?”
The Orbital road lent its name to a series of raves in the late eighties and early nineties. This in turn gave house duo Orbital their name.
Novelist Iain Sinclair walked anti-clockwise around the motorway in 2000 for his book “London Orbital”.
Explorers Alastair Humphreys and Rob Lilwall spent eight days walking the entire M25 route last year. Fans followed their progress via Twitter, with many locals offering beds for the night.
Last August Northern Irish fundraiser Trevor Sandford golfed his way around the motorway, covering 31 courses in 31 days, in aid of charity.
The tiny village of North Ockendon is the only settlement in Greater London outside the M25, while Watford (population 80,000) is the largest town outside Greater London to lie inside the M25.
Epping Foresters Cricket Club plays on a pitch directly above the M25’s Bell Common tunnel.
Since 1996 a man called Gimpo has spent a day each year driving around the M25. In fact, a day and a bit, as he takes 25 hours and he plans to do it until 2021. That’s a 25 year circumlocution spending 25 hours at a time on the M25. He calls it the M25 Spin, and it’s quietly becoming one of the most intriguing art projects out there.
If you drove round the M25 clockwise in the slow lane, you would travel 600ft further than if you drove round the motorway anti-clockwise in the slow lane.
The clockwise off-slip at Reigate is the longest slip-road in the world, outside of America.
Its north sections follow a similar route to the Outer London Defence Ring which was the defences built around the city for the Second World War.
And finally just in case you are reading this while stationary on the M25, a report this year revealed that roadworks had caused 118 years of hold-ups in 18 months between junctions 16 and 23 alone . . .
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My fifteen minutes
16 September, 2011 at 1:34 am | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: London films
Recently I was contacted by the BBC London Arts Unit with a view to my contributing to a documentary they were making to be transmitted in the run up to the 2012 Olympics. Entitled “A Picture of London” the assistant producer/researcher explained to me over the phone that they wanted to feature a number of people who work and live in the capital, who would relate their favourite places in London.
Meeting with the documentary’s producer in of all places the Museum of Childhood – would that be a reflection of childhood memories – he explained over a cup of coffee that they were filming about nine individuals and some would eventually end up on the proverbial cutting room floor.
Filming was scheduled for a Sunday evening a week or so later to rendezvous in a car park near Tower Bridge. My cab had a camera mounted on its bonnet by the grips man Garth (I had always wondered what grips were) and after about half an hour we were driving to Battersea via Tower Bridge.
One of my favourite spots in London is the beautiful Georgian church of St. Mary’s perched above the Thames in Battersea. It is said that Turner painted some of his rivers cape studies of light from the vestry window of the church and was rowed over every day by his servant in order that he might paint.
While taking numerous zoom shots of the cab approaching the water’s edge we were scrutinised by the River Police inquisitive of our intentions. It was explained to me that this was an occupational hazard of film units and they had already been stopped more than once that day.
Next was a drive across the capital with a camera pointing into my left ear with me trying to negotiate London’s traffic while commentating of what life was like for a London cabbie, not as easy as it looks with everybody cutting you up.
One arrival at the London Zoo (where both my father and grandfather worked) it was pitch dark but that didn’t stop them taking another round of rolling shots of the cab, which again drew the attention of this time the Zoo’s security staff, hardly surprising as the main entrance by now was illuminated by their floodlights. A short piece of commentary by me as an audio recording rounded off the day.
Would I be contacted again by the BBC? Could this mark a career in broadcasting? These thoughts ran through my, by now, exhausted head.
Two weeks later I picked up a copy of our trade’s newspaper, there inside was a full page article written by the doyen of cabbie journalism – Al Fresco – writer, raconteur, sometime editor and a cabbie of some 40 years, describing how on a Sunday morning recently he was filming for the BBC.
How could I compete? Here was an erudite part time journalist, old fashioned Jewish cabbie who had more tales of London’s East End after the war, a place where most of the cabbies hailed from at the time, featuring in a documentary entitled A Picture of London.
Oh well! My Andy Warhol moment will have to wait.
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A Cavalier Attitude
6 September, 2011 at 10:40 am | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: cats and dogs
I suppose it all started with a visit to Manchester Square and seeing the Wallace Collection. Its most famous exhibit is a rather jovial fellow, with a ruddy complexion, wearing a large hat at a jaunty angle: Frans Hals’s The Laughing Cavalier.
For the first time in nearly 40 years we didn’t have kids, dogs, cats or a mortgage to worry about and were spending some quality time together. I was enjoying the freedom, my wife, though loathed to admit it, missed the patter of tiny feet (on two or four legs) around the house; so what could be easier to live with, my she reasoned, than a dog named after someone with such a happy countenance?
Cavalier King Charles Spaniels might have the same nomenclature and look as if they are always laughing but that’s as close to Frans Hals’s masterpiece as they get. For when they open their mouths no witty repose emits, surprisingly for such a small creature, just a very loud jap!
So after hours spent surfing the World Wide Wait, and contacting every cavalier dog fanatic in the Home Counties we were eventually to meet Mary, a half blind breeder of the cutest dogs to walk the earth. Mary was divorced, apparently her ex-husband couldn’t stand driving to the weekly dog shows up and down the country, and if truth be told he must have come a poor second to the dogs. Now her house was a shrine to these cute four-legged creatures.
A minute mid-terrace Victorian house, Mary had dogs, or to be more accurate, Cavaliers everywhere. Pictures of them on every wall; the living room had dog cages which used up any available space left. Not that Mary’s dogs would sit in them, preferring the comfort of the settee the only available seat in the house. The kitchen fared no better, more cages this time for the puppies and their mother.
Explaining that the prospective owner for one of the available puppies didn’t quite reach the high standards of doggie ownership set by Mary she had decided to vet (an appropriate term) other possible suitors. Only two puppies were left, a dopey male and a female currently hanging by her teeth from the curtains – they were adorable.
Driving away we told Mary, if we matched her criterion for dog ownership we would “think about it”. I pondered on the vexing decision for perhaps 2-3 hours; my wife on the other hand took all of 2-3 nano-seconds.
The next day the phone was answered by Mary: “Yes, if you would agree, we’ll have Blossom”, I heard myself saying down the line.
In part the decision to get another dog was prompted by The Dogs Trust who had produced a Canine Charter for Human Health which claimed among the rewards of dog ownership was lower cholesterol and lower blood pressure (I can put my hand up to needing those on both counts); better recovery prospects after a heart attack; a reduced chance of your child suffering from asthma; lower stress levels; and a stronger immune system – owning a dog then seemed like a good deal to me. Another benefit was that to stay fit we’re supposed to take at least 150 minutes of moderate exercise per week clearly far more than I had been undertaking of late.
But the unexpected benefit – after renaming Blossom to a less embarrassing name – was the social goods that this little creature gave me. It is commonplace in London that we never look strangers in the eye, much less initiate conversation. My doggy’s ability to oil the wheels of social intercourse was amazing, for the first time in 30 years young ladies would notice me, or to be more accurate, notice my dog and we would strike up a conversation. Strangers crossed the road to pass the time of day, even the Community Support Officer took time off from harassing youngsters in the park to talk.
Another less welcome aspect of dog ownership has occurred, we may be a nation of shopkeepers but unfortunately in our capital a doggie apartheid seems to have surfaced. Our post office, perhaps the last place in Britain where you can experience the sort of epic queues that Russians would endure under communism has a perfectly polished brass plate “No Dogs”. What are they likely to do, lick the stamps? I’m beginning to realise with the changes in the socio-religious make up of London that dog owners are becoming a barely tolerated minority group. Some shops do not allow even assistance dogs into their premises for whatever the reason, and where a pub was the last bastions for a man and his dog now have become a no-go area if food is served. Restaurants almost universally ban dogs, ignoring the law that states that dogs are only prohibited from where food is prepared and not where it is consumed. Under the Animal Welfare Act, owners have a duty to ensure their pets are exercised, but now some of London’s councils have threatened to bar dogs entering their parks fearing the rare transmission of disease to children, ignoring the fact that the instances of infection are very rare.
A Nation of Dog Lovers? We are more becoming a city without our four-legged friends by
our side.
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The New Centurions
23 August, 2011 at 1:01 am | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: London life
Now before you start reading today’s little missive I must add a cautionary note. If you haven’t reached your thirtieth birthday my words of wisdom will have no relevance in your life and I suggest you just chat amongst yourselves for the next five minutes.
According to the latest research, no doubt funded by the insurance companies who stand to gain by its results, one in five of us currently living in Britain are likely to survive beyond the age of 100. That should mean if purchasing term life insurance your premiums would be lower – which they’re not – and if you are a silver surfer your pension annuity would give you less – which it does.
I didn’t sign up for this kind of nonsense, my granny lived to be 97; when she was a young woman the Wright Brothers made their first flight and before she died had watched man land on the moon. In her day the “experts” regarded 67 as your life’s expectancy, but many of her generation died in the trenches of the First World War and many more had their lives shortened by their experience of warfare, so much for their sixty-sevens worth.
The biblical notion of three score years and ten might have had some relevance in the Middle East 2,000 years ago (my bet is that most workers just managed one score year and ten), but today another score should be added to our longevity prediction.
If in 2047 I were still active, independent and financially viable (all three, of course, two out of three is not acceptable), then I suppose I could live with it, but that possibility seems increasingly unlikely.
Politicians have realised this and deferred our pensions, at the same time reducing the number of years they need to clock up to receive their own full Parliamentary pension.
With NHS resources stretched to the limit, let alone when we baby boomers become octogenarians or older, is extended old age something we will have to live with in the future, or will future administrators decide that in global terms resources are being wasted on the old and corrective measures are necessary? The realities of Soylent Green and Logan’s Run are beginning to seem less outrageous as the years march on. I can’t see myself in 2047 negotiating London’s streets in my cab, mind you I’ll be lucky to find my way to the toilet at 100. While most of us without gold plated pensions will find they’re miniscule after 35 years of retirement.
So 20 per cent. of us will get a letter from the King (or Queen you never know), but will be unable to reach down to the doormat and pick it up?
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Cabbie’s Monopoly – Part V
15 April, 2011 at 12:41 pm | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: London's streets
Now we have visited most streets and squares on my Cabbies’ Monopoly board, it’s time now to build a house. The houses in the true 1930s Monopoly fashion should be semi-detached with bay windows with the ubiquitous privet hedge marking their road boundary. The CabbieBlog houses here are just a little grander than your average semi.
NORTHUMBERLAND AVENUE
Northumberland House, the London home of the Percy family; the Dukes of Northumberland demolished in 1874. Standing just south from Trafalgar Square it was the last of the great Strand mansions to succumb. His grace did have another house to fall back on though; Syon House in Isleworth and it was to this estate the giant emblematic Percy Lion – which had stood guard over the main gateway facing the Strand to Northumberland House for over 150 years – was taken. In the 17th century the house formed part of the dowry when the Earl of Suffolk’s daughter married Lord Percy.
LEICESTER SQUARE
Once one of the biggest houses in London once stood on his large square. Celebrated for its rather dangerous entertainments in 1672 John Evelyn dined here and was beguiled by Richardson “the famous fire-eater, who before us devour’d Brimston on glowing coales, chewing and swallowing hem downe”. Life here was even more dangerous 100 years later when the father of the future “Mad” King George III, when still the Prince of Wales died after being hit in the throat with a cricket ball. And here’s one for the pub quiz: In 1780 the Toxophilite Society was inaugurated here.
TRAFALGAR SQUARE
The site of the King’s Mews, a vast building in which the Royal Hawks were kept, falconers lodged and daily services held in the “Chapel of the Muwes”. Geoffrey Chaucer once toiled there as a clerk of works. After a fire the mews were rebuilt as stabling during the reign of Elizabeth I. During the civil war the mews became barracks for the Parliamentary Army and after the Battle of Naseby about 4,500 Cavalier prisoners were incarcerated there. In its last years the main building was used as a menagerie and a store for public records, demolished in 1830.
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Blue Book Run 320
8 April, 2011 at 11:56 pm | Posted in A window on My World | 2 CommentsTags: the knowledge
There are over 24,000 licensed taxi drivers in London; and in order to ply for hire every single one of them, like every one of their predecessors has had to pass an exam called “The Knowledge Of London”. It was initiated in 1865, and has changed little since. This clip from writer Jack Rosenthal’s 1981 play The Knowledge is the story of four men and their attempts to become cab drivers. In the process, they acquire a different kind of knowledge: knowledge of themselves and of those closest to them, of their strengths and weaknesses, of what they want from life – and how knowledge itself is the means of getting it . . . It perfectly depicts that journey from application form to Green Badge.
So today I thought it might be possible to listen in to a Knowledge student undertaking an examination. When you are accepted to start The Knowledge you are given The Blue Book – the fact that the cover of mine was pink is somewhat irrelevant, the cover was once blue so it remains forever known as The Blue Book. There are 320 Blue Book Runs – just simple routes criss-crossing London which are designed to cover most eventualities – that you are expected to learn by heart.
Upon examination which is conducted on a one-to-one basis (called an “Appearance”) you are rarely asked a Blue Book Run, but rather a point nearby which could be anything that could conceivably be asked of by a passenger.
So for this, the last run in the Blue Book (which is Copenhagen Street to Charing Cross Station), you might be asked the Lewis Carroll Children’s Library to the Zimbabwe High Commission, for that you would answer Bemerton Street to Strand (Note: Not The Strand for it appears on the A to Z as Strand).
If you gave the correct answer to both locations you would then be allowed to proceed by relating the route orally (known as “Calling Over”) to the examiner.
As the pupil progresses the examiner will mix and match runs, but the student will still “call over” runs parrot fashion with fellow students so he can recall the 320 runs of roads verbatim.
The examiner is waiting to hear you call the run to him, so here we go:
Leave on right Bemerton Street
Left Copenhagen Street
Right Caledonia Road
Forward King’s Cross Bridge
Right Gray’s Inn Road
Bear Left Euston Road
Left Judd Street
Right Leigh Street
Left Marchmont Street
Right Coram Street
Left Woburn Place
Comply Russell Square
Leave by Montague Street
Right Great Russell Street
Left Bloomsbury Street
Forward Shaftsbury Avenue
Right Princes Circus
Bear Left Shaftsbury Avenue
Bear Left Monmouth Street
Forward Upper St. Martin’s Lane
Right Cranbourne Street
Left Charing Cross Road
Forward St. Martin’s Place
Left Duncannon Street
Left Strand
Set down on Left
If you have access to a London map you will note that many “streets” are only a few yards long even so you are expected to call them to the examiner.
“Paul” is recounting his progress on The Knowledge and if you wish to follow his blog it gives a pretty good idea of his progress.
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Cabbies Monopoly – Part IV
1 April, 2011 at 1:19 am | Posted in A window on My World | Leave a commentTags: London's streets
Returning again to the 1930’s Monopoly set that I discovered in the attic. This time it’s all about money “Pass Go and Collect £200”, £200 doesn’t seem much today, but remember you can buy Mayfair from the Duke of Westminster for only £400, what a bargain. Assuming you have collected your £200 where do you go to spend your gain, the shops of course.
REGENT STREET
Forget Oxford Street, Regent Street is by far a more elegant place to shop. Designed by John Nash, the original construction with its elegant curves had a covered colonnade for pedestrians to walk under to protect them from the elements as they moved from shop to shop. It proved rather popular for prostitutes to use as a cat-walk while displaying their wares so it was demolished by 1920. The shop fronts now just look like any other row of shops. Hamleys would look rather interesting for the children with the “ladies” parading outside.
BOND STREET
Yes you are right Bond Street doesn’t exist. Old Bond Street is only 14 years older than its newer sibling, both acquired the aristocratic seal of approval when the Duchess of Devonshire in 1784, after a fit of pique, organised a boycott against the hitherto smarter shops of Covent Garden. Modern Bond Streets are packed with designer label flagship stores and jewellers which have become a favourite with smash and grab thieves on motorbikes. Separating the two streets is pedestrianised and has a sculpture depicting Churchill and Roosevelt seated on a bench.
PICCADILLY
Named after the curious ruff much favoured by Elizabethans, the starched collar was called a piccadill. J. C. Cording the suppliers of tweed and cords to the huntin’, fishin’ and shootin’ set is part owned by “Slowhand” himself Eric Clapton. Waterstones opposite was once Simpsons of Piccadilly department store and Jeremy Lloyd having worked as a shop assistant there based his 1970 comedy Are You Being Served on his experience. While Fortnum & Mason was started by William Fortnum Queen Anne’s footman who saved his pennies to start the store by selling cut price candles to the palace.
MAYFAIR
The Americans wanted to buy the freehold to build their embassy, but the Grosvenor family never sell, all are leased. When told they couldn’t buy the land they insisted and petitioned Parliament; the Grosvenor family were heavily leaned on but all to no avail. Then the Duke thought of a good compromise. He told them that if they were to return to the Grosvenor family all those lands in the United States stolen after the American War of Independence including Maine and New York he would allow them to buy their site on the west side of Grosvenor Square, they backed down.
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It's just like sitting in the back of my Black London Cab listening to me pontificate without having to tip.
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Born in Fitzrovia but now reside in rural Essex - where else? Cabbie for over 15 years and a lover of London for longer. If you need to know more or get in touch just click my mug.
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