I‘ve had a mental block regarding blogging just lately. It’s nothing unusual, it happens lots of times to lots of bloggers. I’m scratching my head staring at a lone cursor blinking forlornly in the middle of a blank white screen, with my liver-spotted hands poised over the keys. So, I had a look around at the usual what to do when you can’t think what to do websites, looking for motivation, and unsurprisingly they all seem to have the same what to do suggestions.

So, I could bang on about Brexit, now only two days away, though it seems every man and his dog are now counting down.

Uber, given a reprieve, could be examined to see if they are now whiter-than-white. But the reality, with a quiet Christmas out of the way, was there even enough customers to put in a complaint?

I could give my predictions for next year, only to forever having comments uploaded about how wide-off the mark I’d been.

In the end, I’ve sat down and decided to write. What about, I haven’t a clue, but we’ll see what happens.

What On Earth Can I Say?

Having retired, writing is a feeling of catharsis. It costs nothing to put pen to paper and even the most obscure topic will be read by someone in the world who might even reply.

So . . . I have nothing to say, but here I am saying something, and hoping something might just might, turn up.

Coronavirus diary

It’s been an extraordinary year, with Covid-19, something the experts at Public Health England assured us would never reach our shores. Well, without the risk of saying “I told you so” when first reading of this virus in China I started a 1-line diary. Starting on 31st December 2019, every day I recorded how this malevolent form was impacting our lives. If you are minded to, you can read it next month under ‘Coronavirus Journal‘.

As this blog is about London I should mention that this New Year’s fireworks will not be claiming, as in the past: ‘London Is Open’, when clearly it isn’t.

Next year I should decide whether to surrender my ‘Bill’, that’s my licence if you’re not one of a dwindling band of London cabbies speaking the lingo. I haven’t driven for 2 years (could I even find my way from Buckingham Palace to Trafalgar Square?), and to maintain the licence costs over £200 a year.

How many intend to return to the office, all bright and bushy-tailed, next year. Or will London become a ghost town with tumbleweed blowing through the City?

The West End has been decimated, many shows including Phantom of the Opera closed, so no more young Japanese taking selfies outside Her Majesty’s Theatre at 10.15 at the end of the show.

The Pfizer/BioNTech vaccine looks promising, as does the Oxford/AstraZeneca vaccine but as the Americans say: “You do the Math”, protecting an entire country is going to take over a year, so where does that leave London’s leisure sector, and by extension, the Licensed Black Cabbie?

Happy New Year

There you have it. I had nothing to say and most of what I said amounted to nothing that hasn’t already been said. I’ll leave it at that. I just want to wish everyone a very happy and healthy New Year and may 2021 be Covid-19 free. Thank you to everyone for your continued support during this year.