Big black taxi come and took away that young man

There are a few things which those of us used to driving (or being driven in the case of my children) must learn. One is to read bus timetables and to accept that buses will turn up early when you are late and late when you are on time. Another is to work out the exact spot to stand if you need to take a taxi. Oh, and never be afraid of the dark, or you won’t do anything.

So yesterday Teenage Ted and I took the bus then the train to the theatre and the train then a taxi back. Today Ted and I had the challenge of an early morning appointment with the doctor and the need to get him to and from his drama class and me to and from a meeting. In theory it was all simple. In practice I realise that my children have been brought up to believe that time is infinitely flexible and if you are still watching TV/finding socks/eating breakfast when it is time to leave then this will have no impact on the journey ahead of you. Of course, I cannot imagine where they have got this idea from since I am entirely blameless in all this…

So yesterday I called Ted and I called him and still he did not appear. Eventually he arrived and we set out. I was thankful that I had written a few extra minutes into our schedule. The bus had not. It arrived early. We ran and I was again thankful, this time that there were sufficient passengers getting off to hold up the bus long enough for a lanky teenager and a wheezing middle-aged woman to clamber on.

I am not a teacher but I assume it takes teenagers a while to learn boring facts and bus timetables are not that interesting (well, they may be to some people but it takes all sorts). So it was this morning that we hurried to catch a bus to get to the doctor and this time missed it - I think a lack of easy-find socks was to blame. But that was all to the good as a friend saw us, picked us up, drove us into the town and then took Ted to school. Sometimes ignoring timetables can work in your favour.

But the taxi was a different matter. Now, as a young stripling with the ability to claim back company expenses, I was forever hailing Black Cabs in London and saying things like “The Ritz please, my good man, and make it snappy”. Perhaps taking such a tone led to my being blacklisted by all cab drivers. What other explanation can there have been for the curious incident of the cab in the night time? Last night, the lanky teenager and the wheezing midde-aged woman alighted from the train and decided to take a taxi home after an excellent evening seeing To Kill a Mockingbird at a theatre in a nearby town. We had ascertained that there were no buses that linked with trains after the middle of the evening since all people taking the evening trains must also either have cars, or live near the station, or be wealthy enough to take taxis. We fall into none of these categories. The theatre trip had been a work outing for me (I review  for a local newspaper - another challenge in my current carless state) and now Ted and I needed to return home.

We had to splash out on the taxi and stood second-in-line at the taxi rank. A cab turned up with its yellow light indicating it was for hire and the man in front jumped in. Don’t worry, another one will be here soon I assured Ted. Sure enough, a cab approached, also with its yellow ‘for hire’ sign shining encouragingly. We stepped forward. The cab shot several yards beyond us and the young man behind us scuttled past and leapt in, glancing furtively over his shoulder at us. It was another 10 or 15 minutes before the next taxi arrived. And then it cost us £10 to drive for six minutes.

Still, this evening was also bizarre. Ted and I missed a bus to get him to drama (lack of shirt this time) and then I walked home, walked to a meeting and walked home again only to find that the babysitter who had looked after Coco earlier was still there and scared of walking home in the dark. Leaving Ted in charge (thank you H for getting him home from drama) I walked her back again. Don’t be afraid of the dark - it will get you nowhere.