Taxi drivers are fighting each other

Tonight mum and Mirinda went to the ballet at the Royal Opera House.


I didn’t. I don’t like the ballet.

Instead I spent some time at Starbucks then at the Marquess of Anglesea, a nearby pub. So much better than the ballet.

Before parting ways, the three of us had dinner at Pizza Express. Apparently, the founder, Peter, introduced Peroni into the UK back in 1965. I had one to celebrate such largesse. I also had my favourite pizza (Fiorentina).

We were originally going to sup at Zizzi’s but they were full. Fortunately Pizza Express is just across the road so we grabbed the last table even if it was by the big double doors and we froze every time someone opened them.

I’d taken mum on a short tour of Covent Garden so she could see where grandad Cooke and dad used to work only without the produce. Of course she found a tourist shop to spend some money in.

Of course Covent Garden is much changed since when my grandfather would share a pint with the king of a morning. No fruit and veg for a start…and no king.

She was a bit sad that it had changed but happy that it had remained albeit with a new usage.

Our reflections in the mirrored ceiling

Our reflections in the mirrored ceiling

It was good giving her a bit of exercise as she’d spent all morning lazing around the extension while I dug up the diseased box, burnt the rubbish and took the dogs up the park for a jolly good throw of the ball.

Trouble is, I think it was a bit too much exercise. Getting home after midnight after walking down to the Strand took its toll and mum had difficulty alighting from the taxi at home.

Mind you, she absolutely loved the ballet and even the black cab ride afterwards, so well worth the tiredness.

And speaking of black cabs…the title of this post was supplied by a chap waiting for his wife outside the opera house. He was on the phone to someone when two black cab drivers started arguing over a fare.

“I picked him up up the road!” Claimed one.
“You lying bastard!” Claimed the other.

The person on the other end of the phone must have asked what the commotion was. The answer: “Taxi drivers are fighting each other.” Perfect.

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