TAXI DRIVERS WE HAVE KNOWN AND LOVED

On our recent travels we have engaged some delightful and very interesting taxi drivers. I guess to be a successful taxi driving you should have a keen eye, razor wit and a profound interest in humankind. The taxi drivers of Belfast have all these qualities in spades. Each one has his own “take” on the past “troubles” and the future prospects of the city. Their observations are fascinating, rich in history and very passionate. A city of philosophers who have kissed the blarney stone.

In Scotland our taxi driver, on hearing our destination, said he had worked at the Singer Sewing Machine factory with a guy from that village when he was younger. “That guy” turned out to be one of my young man’s childhood friends. They had a good Scottish blether about this and that, and my young man was able to inform the driver where their mutual friend could be found drinking on a Friday night. This bought us a good discount on the fare! Result!!

But it was in Stockholm that we had our most exciting and unforgettable experience. We hailed a taxi. Through the half opened window I passed a card bearing the name of our unpronounceable hotel. The driver was wearing nail varnish which should have alerted me to the fact that this was not your usual run of the mill alpha macho male.

It wasn’t until we were underway that we all noticed his extreme oddity. He was very old and decrepit (even by our standards) with grey stubble on his head and chin, a hair lip, no teeth, long varnished nails, earrings, bangles on his wrists and a ladies hairbrush in his side pocket. OK……..too late to get twitchy (unless we were prepared to jump from a moving vehicle) so we chose to ignore all the bad vibes and “act British” as though there was nothing unusual going on here.

Now I can “act British” as much as you want, but don’t try to rip me off. Do that and you can forget the “stiff British upper lip” and in its place comes “belligerent stiff British bulldog”. I think you can get my drift here can't you? Right - he did try to rip us off. The journey into the city usually cost about £15, he was asking double. Out came the bulldog.

Foreigners are ignorant and usually unschooled in the intricacies of the English language and as I didn’t want him to misunderstand me I simply yelled at the top of my voice “too much". As anticipated, he understood this simple phrase and started yelling back in gibberish. I continued to shout “too much, too much”. He quickly gave in to my superiority and reduced his rate to £25. I continued yelling “too much, too much - £16 - no more”, “come into the hotel” and got out of the taxi. One of my travelling companions duly handed him the equivalent of £16 and also got out. Well…this enraged him beyond belief. He recognised that I was the one making the decisions here and ran up yelling in foreign at me and spitting in my face.

People that know me well know not to yell (especially in foreign) and spit in my face. It makes me mad and that’s not nice. The pen, being mightier than the sword, appeared in my hand and brandishing it I continued yelling “give me your driver’s number” and maybe a few other choice words thrown in for good effect. For a few short seconds we stood toe to toe screaming at each other. I won. He left. Now he knows not to mess with us Brits. Rule Britannia.

BELFAST - A PLACE TO RIVAL DENVER

Years ago we visited Denver, Colorado and were greatly impressed with their claims of being “the biggest” “the first” “the greatest”. It seemed that outside of Denver the world didn’t exist. Dumped in the middle of arid land, in the middle of nowhere, it self-promoted itself into “the place to be”. Our American friends became frustrated with our tales of facts and wonders. You could almost hear them mutter under their breath “Bloody Denver, Denver, Denver I wish they would shut up about it”. Well now we will shut up. We have discovered …da-da-da..…BELFAST!

Did you know that Belfast has the largest dry dock in the world

Did you know that Belfast has the bigges cranes in the world (Samson and Delilah)?

Did you know that Belfast has the oldest English language newspaper in the World that was the first to print news of the French Revolution and The American Declaration of Independence?

Did you know that the defibrillator was invented and first used in Belfast?

Did you know that air-conditioning was invented and first used in Belfast?

Did you know that Doctors come to train in Belfast because they are world experts in the treatment of gunshot wounds and bomb trauma?

Did you know that Lord Baden-Powell (the founder of the scout movement) served in the army in Belfast and used to ride his horse to the local pub? OK, not a particularly amazing fact. But what is amazing is that he wouldn’t dismount. He simply rode into the pub, drank his Guinness and then went home to sleep it off. Now that’s a bit of English weirdness!

Oh! I could go on, but I won't

Belfast is an off the wall and wonderful place. Although we were obviously aware of the “troubles” it’s impossible to get a feel for what it's really like unless you go there. Thank goodness the city is now peaceful but they do say that coming up to the beginning of the marching season on the 12th July the tension between Catholics and Protestants begins to mount again.

The "peace wall" is still there to minimize intercommunal sectarian violence between them. The barriers themselves consist of iron, brick, and steel walls mainly 20/25 feet high (although local folklaw claims that in some sections it has recently been extended to a height of 50’!), topped with metal netting. The four crossing gates are closed at night.

Bearing in mind that this is a city about the size of Leicester it’s hard to it take it all in. A taxi driver told us that to this day local “war lords” control the streets and anyone with a problem goes to them to sort out, not the police. But…it’s the second safest city in the world, the safest city being Tokyo.

I remember in the 1950’/60’ the East End of London was ruled by gangsters and there was very little street crime their either. The little oich tearawys were too scared to misbehave or they would end up propping up the motorway. Maybe we should ask the “war lords” to run the county. Oh! My mistake – they do!!