K8 the GR8

I’m the tiredest person in the world.  From being unemployed (or a ‘Home Engineer’ as I like to put it) to a full-time cabby in less than 60 seconds has taken it’s toll a bit!  Me poor blog has taken to the backburner, but I’ll try to keep her ticking over - at least until I’ve finished programming photos into me Celtclanink.com, which is a task that hangs over me like a box of Acme TNT.  Pardon me if I’m a bit quiet.

I love being a cabby, me.  Bray is full of diversity… it’s only been a week and I’ve already met the village idiot and the new Messiah!  Seriously though, taxiing is a rich farm of interesting conversations.  Everyone wants to talk to a stranger, as Pedro rightly pointed out during a game of Colin McRae after work today. 

I made my first taxi-punter regular!  A girl and her fella took a shine to me last week and by coincidence, got me again today.  When her boyfriend hopped out, she got me to drive her to the top of the town, then back down to the bottom again in rush hour traffic.  She was in the car for almost an hour but we spent it happily burning our each other’s ears off (with matches!-it’s so nice to meet a fellow sado-masochist) and comparing tattoos.  She gave me a small fortune of a tip and asked me to stick around!  Sweet.

A little old lady likened me to James Bond for my driving skills, and a younger Austrian lady informed me that it costs €55 (FIFTY FIVE SQUIDS?!?!?) to have one’s nails varnished at the Ritz-Carlton hotel in Enniskerry.  My, but isn’t that one posh spa.  I hope she buffs first!

-o-

Jefferson has me tagged with one of his own nifty inventions-

“Bring to your consciousness those memoriesof the things you’ve seen and the places you’ve been over the last twenty-four hours. Good. Now select a one-minute sequence of events and try to replay it over and over again in your mind.��?

From “The Three Bears“, by Derec Jones. 

Whoa… which minute?!  How to choose?!?!  Ok here goes:

I’m sitting on the Putland Road with the door open and the sun shining strong, having a smoke (shhhh!).  The CB radio has been quiet, and the lads out on the streets are getting bored. 

- *cchhh* 21, Tommy?

- *cchhh* Yeah go ahead Pa’.

- *cchhh* Do you have a number for this fella? What does he look like?

- *cchhh* 28, K8 - have you got details for this lad?

- *cchhh* Umm, no.  He’s in his sixties, long scruffyish hair. (I release the button and curse loudly - bad rookie!)

- *cchhh* Heh.. sounds like you, Pa’!

- *cchhh* Rrrrrodge.

- *cchhh* Car 11 is clear.

- *cchhh* Yeah clear.  Ehhh… 28, uh.. ehhh.  Whatsit ehhhhhh.. K… uuuuhhhh.. um.. (etc for 12 seconds of forgetful torture while I scream RELEASE THE BUTTON SO I CAN TELL YA!!! at the radio.) uhhhh… Kate!

- I pause to quash a bad dose of giggles… *cchhh* snif - Yeah, go ahead *ahem*

- *cchhh* Sorry there.  Brain blocked. Could you go up to Dunnes there and pick up a Missuz Whotsit with her shopping for 14 Backageegee street? 

-*cchhh* Sure thing.  And Tommy?

-*cchhh* Yeah go ahead

-*cchhh* Keep your ‘uuuhhs’ to yourself next time, ok?

-*cchhh* Wha?

-*cchhh* tee hee hee!

I couldn’t believe that someone actually pressed their mike button just to giggle.  How great this job is!

I like this one.  Fair play Jeffo :)

Passing the pencil to: The Benster, Resident Alien, Doc (The Accidental Terrorist may or may not be on to you… he’s being very furtive about penguins lately), Sam Problemchildbride, and Thriftcriminal.

Head. Pillow. Hit. Zzzzzzzz.