Just when you think you have seen it all and been asked every motoring question imaginable along comes one out of the blue. Filling up at the end of the day a young man asks “how do I fill up my car”. I then have to show him how to select the fuel; unhook the nozzle; insert the said nozzle into the car; pull the trigger; and what to say to the cashier. Oh! And “Don’t forget to lock your doors if you want to come back to your vehicle”.

When I buy my Kingsmill sliced from my local supermarket (£1) I wouldn’t trust it if there was no wrapper even if the shop was pristine. So why is it that on Borough High Street with its constant traffic jams of vehicles churning out diesel fumes while waiting to cross London Bridge one maker or should that be creator, of ‘artisan’ bread, displays his wares on a bench in the street?

I was outside the Howard Hotel, before being demolished in anticipation of the unlamented Garden Bridge. A guy with lots of heavy photographic equipment wanted to be taken just quarter of a mile up the Victoria Embankment to a ship. I help him carry said equipment on board and he tells me a previous cabbie, a woman at that when asked to do the job told him to f**k off. It was good to see courtesy is still alive in our trade.