The only thing better than London cabs is London cabbies.
There was a time after I first moved to London when the only place I could count on having a conversation outside my house was in a black cab. Sometimes I would decide to go someplace just so I would have someone to talk to. But now I look upon London cabbies not only as people who always know where I’m going, but often as knowing the most surprisingly interesting ways to get me there.
Once as I was going to visit the Imperial War Museum, a cabbie told me a story about his own time in the army that still sits at the top of my list of books I need to write. Another cabbie shared with me the story of her teenage son who was emerging from a two-year long depression. Yet another had me in hysterics as he did his own “sit down” comedy routine of he and his wife’s recent trip to Disneyworld. I guess you never know where you’ll get to when you’re going someplace.
And today, as I was going to the Poetry Cafe to make arrangements for tomorrow’s “Dreams of May” performance, the driver told me all about his wife who was soon to retire after twenty years of teaching kids with learning disabilities. “Kids know it’s important to read, they just need to know it can be fun, too.” Then he told me about how he has put together a collection of short words written on small bits of cards — things like “cat” “ball” “boy” — and put them into an old biscuit tin to use as a game with his grandchildren. He sits down on the floor with them, tosses the cards out all over and says “Okay, show me ‘ball’ “. And then when they do, he gives them a Smartie. And as they get better at it and older he says, “Okay, make up a sentence with the words” then “make up a story.” “And now when the kids come to visit,” he said, “the first thing they say is ‘Come on’ Grandad, let’s get out the tin.’ ” How great is that, now? Really! Sure, he’s not the first to think up such a game. That’s not the important thing. But he does it, loves doing it, and now so do his grandkids. And, as he said, it only takes 3o minutes to make a kid see reading can be fun. So that was my surprise connection of the day.
And to make things even better, when he asked me what I was doing going to the Poetry Cafe and what sorts of things I wrote, I was comfortable enough to pull out one of my handy dandy postcards announcing the publication of “Tangled Roots” and give it to him. He gave me a huge smile and said he and his wife would definitely get a copy and definitely read it…”and the next time I pick you up — and I’m sure I will — I’ll tell you what I really thought of it.” I can’t wait!
Great stories Sue – and today’s driver feels like a good omen for the book’s future
You obviously have the gift of drawing people out! And what a lovely man -it’s beautiful, to think of him with his grandchildren and the ‘tin of words.’ if everyone gave 30 minutes a day to doing that with their kids…
By the way, I had a taxi driver yesterday who told me all about his wife’s knee, which was swollen and painful and didn’t respond to any treatment. But – she began to drink coconut oil, and Lo! the knee is now completely healed. My mind thought its usual cynical thoughts, but when I got out (at the physiotherapist actually) I quickly popped over to Holland and Barrett for some coconut oil. He was very persuasive!
So exciting about tomorrow evening –
Sounds like a decent sort of bloke! I always take the tube when I’m in London, I like the challenge…but not the crush! Maybe I’ll take a cab next time!
Loved this story Sue…..I miss London cabbies!!
C x