We all have to start somewhere

I could stand a very good chance of competing at world level if they introduced procrastination as a sport. I have been intending to start this Blog for longer than I care to admit and the idea of a website has been there longer than most people have known what one is.

So first post, and by way of introduction. I spent about eleven years (all of the 80's) working for one of the largest private hire firms in London and have recently come back to the job but at the other end of the country. I do have other skills but thats for later posts and as the subjects arise.

What we have here could possibly be defined as therapy currently I'm obviously taking to myself but in the event that anyone starts following this blog you are my support group. Instead of chewing the steering wheel and fuming at the insanity's of the world or laughing at the idiocy of other drivers or pedestrians I'll be sharing it on here.


Peter Kay doesn't know the half of it.
So let's get the preliminaries out of the way first.

Been busy?
Yes.
No.
None of your bloody business.


When do you finish?
Just started.
Half way through.
Just about to go home.
Your only asking to see if I'm worth mugging.

(circle correct answer)

You can print those out and just pass them to the next driver when you take a cab, might save time all round.

I do get the same questions with practically every journey but more so, as I'm not native to this end of the country, I get the follow ons....

'You're not from round here are you'.

'How long have you been up here then and what bought you up here.'

and the real clincher 'You haven't lost your accent have you' Why would I? I was 40 before I left London and I'm not going to turn into a character from a Willy Russell play even if I'm still here while someones feeding me with a spoon and wiping the dribble from my chin.

Strange things accents some seem almost genetically ingrained. You somehow know that if Mrs Connolly had emigrated when 2 weeks pregnant it would have made no difference whatsoever to how young Billy turned out. Accents do sound different depending on your own, a fact pointed out to me by having a drunk pounding me on the shoulder for the entire journey telling me how 'we stuffed you lot'. It took the entire trip to work out that he was talking about the International Athletics and assumed I was Australian a mistake thats been made on numerous occasions since.
To the scouse ear cockneys apparently sound Aussie.
Oh well. What can you expect from someone who sounds as though they're about to cough up a hair ball every time they encounter 'ck' in a word.


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