I am in my new taxi.
I would like to say that this is magnificent and thrilling, but actually it isn’t. Actually it is a bit irritating, because there are all sorts of small details about it that are different to the old one. I keep forgetting this, and am mildly annoyed when I rediscover them every time.
I am sure I will either get used to them or persuade Mark to change them.
I am not sorry to be sitting peacefully, and largely undisturbed, on the taxi rank, because it has been a very busy day, and I am completely exhausted.
It started off far too early, especially considering that last night finished far too late. By the time I had finished faffing about trying to plug useful things into the still-functioning upstairs plug sockets, upstairs on the children’s floor, that is, not mine, and realising small but tiresome details like there was no longer anywhere I could plug my telephone to charge, it was half past two in the morning, and when the alarm went off at seven this morning I leaped into the air as if I were auditioning for the Royal Ballet.
The meeting was not until ten, but I had resolved that it would not be kindly to leave the poor dogs un-emptied, and hence had decided to get up early and walk over the fells before I left. I was extremely reluctant to put the dogs in the new taxi to take them to the edge of the woods just before its crucial examination, but couldn’t think of an alternative, and so spent five minutes industriously and thoroughly sheeting the boot up before they were allowed in it.
It was a jolly good job that I did, because Roger Poopy repaid this nobility by rolling in badger poo on the way home.
I say it was badger poo, but frankly the way he smelled it could very easily have been a dead badger, and one that hadn’t washed very often at that. He had rolled in it thoroughly, and was covered in a sort of greasy slime which had turned to crusty bits around his shoulders.
I shrieked in horror.
Of course he had to come back in the car anyway. It is only a couple of minutes between the foot of the fell and our house, but nevertheless, by the time we got back the shiny new taxi absolutely reeked of dung with a high note of corpse.
Fortunately he had been so cowed by my horrified yelling that he had not dared to move so much as a claw on the journey back. I dragged him into the yard and sloshed him down with the watering can before he was even allowed into the house, and then hauled him up the stairs, still swearing, and chucked him into the bath, where he lay, trembling, aware that he had done something so wicked it was practically a capital offence, but with no idea at all what it might be.
I scrubbed him, several times, until the water, which had been a disgusting shade of pinkish-brown, began to run clear. Then I gave him a hasty rub with the towel and chucked him out.
Rosie had been cuddling up to him in silent sympathy with his disgrace, and she was not much better, so I scrubbed her as well.
Then I abandoned them both to shiver miserably in front of the fire and dashed off to the committee meeting, for which by now, I was late.
There was nowhere to park. I drove around in frantic circles and eventually dumped the car in a space which said Barclays Bank Staff Only, and arrived at the Town Hall just as the clock struck ten.
I was scarlet in the face by then, and flapping, and kept catching faint whiffs of myself, which by now was a not-all-that faint odour of wet dog and badger poo.
The sympathetic lady from the council looked at me anxiously, as though I might accidentally growl and bite her, and said that illegal parking might not be the best look for the committee, but that fortunately there were other hearings to be had as well, so I could go and park my car first, which I did, in the nearest space which was about half a mile away. I rushed back to the town hall, puffing and swearing, and then popped upstairs to use their bathroom before presenting myself, as sleeked down as I could manage, which was not very sleeked down, to discuss my new taxi.
There was coffee.
I can hardly tell you what a joy it was.
I sat at the back whilst the Other Hearings were had, and drank coffee. I did nothing for a whole fifteen minutes whilst some other poor sap tried to explain his faltering excuses to the Committee, and it was utterly blissful.
Eventually it was my turn.
The nice council lady read my case out to the Committee and asked me if I had anything sensible to say, which I hadn’t. I made some feeble jokes instead, and the Committee looked at me with mildly bemused expressions, as if I were an intoxicated tramp whom they were interrogating about his safeguarding priorities.
I was halfway through when I realised with a shock of horror that I had left my bag, complete with glasses, purse and car keys, in the bathroom upstairs. I excused myself to the surprised Committee, and pegged off upstairs, where I grabbed it from another council official who was just coming down to hand it in to Lost Property.
When I got back, the Committee members were not exactly rolling their eyes, but they were beginning to look at the Exit door with some enthusiasm. After a minute’s deliberation, they said that they did not feel any need to trail halfway across Kendal to look at my taxi, and that they would just take the nice council lady’s word that it was an acceptable taxi.
Given its new badger-poo perfume I was decidedly relieved about this.
That was it.
The council lady rubber-stamped it, and ten minutes later I was in possession of a brand new set of taxi plates.
I was in employment again.
I am very relieved.
I like being a taxi driver.
PS. I have managed to get the electricity to work this afternoon. I have cleared up the mess from last night and am hopeful that my world is beginning to look brighter.
