tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26878884207358248562024-03-08T05:07:50.855-08:00The Taxi DriverAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05255767181594730238noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2687888420735824856.post-72564246371370389852012-04-29T12:00:00.001-07:002012-04-29T12:00:13.588-07:00Unusual Passengers... Jammie the Sniper<br />
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<em><u><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Unusual Passengers<o:p></o:p></span></u></em></div>
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<em><u><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">James (or Jammie) the Sniper.<o:p></o:p></span></u></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This was a cheerful character that I picked up
early on a Saturday morning to take to the Community Centre for the day away
from his long suffering wife. He opened
his front door clutching the top of his trousers saying to me; ‘can you fasten
up my belt for me, my missus can’t do it, arthritis’. ‘Sure’ I said, ‘stand still’. Minutes later we were in the car heading over
to the Community Centre and he started telling me about his Army days, I must
admit that I love listening to old Army stories. ‘I was a sniper’ he said, I looked at him and
replied that I had never met a sniper before; ‘yes in the Second World War, I
didn’t want to be, but they made me.’ <o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">‘Did you shoot anybody?’ I asked. ‘Yes’ he said; ‘I was pretty ruthless, I’ve
shot quite a few Germans. I’m
ninety-one’ he said. I really thought he
was about seventy six, but that meant that he was around nineteen to early
twenties during WW2. He went on to tell
me that he was in the D. Day Landings in Normandy, and that he and his platoon
attacked a machine gun position, capturing it from the Gunners, and then
turning the gun onto the German lines killing many soldiers. ‘Did you get injured
in the war then?’ I asked. ‘Oh yes’ he replied;
‘I got shot in the foot, crossing a river on France, in a small boat, I fell out
of it and got washed down the river, it was a bit hairy, but I got through it alright.’
<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Although
he was a bit unsteady on his feet, there was nothing wrong with his memory. He could sing all the old war songs; no problem
about that. I looked at this frail old man
sat in the car at the side of me who didn’t look like he would say boo to a mouse
and wondered about how different his early life in those way years had been to mine.
He must have seen some weird and wonderful
sights.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05255767181594730238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2687888420735824856.post-36854002190632729562012-04-06T03:56:00.000-07:002012-04-06T03:56:44.576-07:00The Private Medical Examination<br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 27px;"><i><u><br /></u></i></span></span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>Before you become a Taxi Driver, you need to have a Private Medical Examination...</b></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Off you go to your Doctor, with your cheque
book in your pocket for your medical, very nervous, happy in the knowledge that
if you fail this you can’t become a taxi driver. So obviously your blood pressure reading is
going to be a lot higher than it normally is. <o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Now your fate depends on the Doctor, some are
very understanding, and if you go along with a sad story about how hard it is
to get a job anywhere, and you have three kids to feed and this taxi job is the
last resort they nod understandingly and sign your form and away you go.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">However if you have a keen and conscientious
doctor like mine you get a proper and thorough check up.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<br /></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Eyesight and hearing are tested, pulse rate,
blood pressure and heart beat in fact everything you can think of, however the
doctor merely has to scan through your medical records on his laptop to come up
with the answers he needs.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My doctor looked at his chart and told me that
I was overweight for my height and advised me to get more exercise and cut out
the ‘chip butties’. What’s new. Luckily I am in reasonably good health so I
didn’t have any problems and passed the tests.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05255767181594730238noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2687888420735824856.post-70352967852052913792012-03-04T06:41:00.000-08:002012-03-04T06:48:26.497-08:00The Smartly Dressed Driver.<br />
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<em><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I always thought, if I ever became
a taxi driver I would try and look smart.
Therefore I have always worn a shirt and tie everyday when driving my
taxi. I would look upon it as a
‘discipline of work’ and it came quite naturally to me after twenty years of
wearing a suit and tie when I worked for a large insurance company as a
financial advisor. I was to find though
that this little dress code of mine was to bring funny looks from many of the
other taxi drivers I met on my travels.
They probably thought that I was odd or mental or something, never mind.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I found that a lot of the ‘old dears’ using the
car felt a lot more at ease with me and some even asked the radio controller to
send me next time on the call. They obviously
thought I was old fashioned and harmless, and felt safe with me. The owner of the taxi firm was more than
happy with my appearance and said on several occasions that he wished more of his
drivers wore a tie. I found that when he
wanted to make a good impression with a new client or company account I was one
of the drivers who would be sent on those jobs, generally ferrying business men
from the company to the rail station or airport. Over the years I was to find that people
would jump into my car, take a look at me and say, you don’t see many taxi
drivers wear a tie. Usually I would
reply, well I can look scruffy if you like, but more often than not, I would
just say, my Mum got me dressed this morning.<o:p></o:p></span></em></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05255767181594730238noreply@blogger.com0