For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Un-Fare: Sacrificed At The Green Altar (14.09.12)

Today we have a guest post from Brian who writes about London on the Capital Letters Blog, his insights include taxis and life in general. His polemical view of today’s regulation by TfL of the Capital’s transport is well made and he laments on the demise of his old Fairway taxi, which he claims has served him well over the years. He also questions the validity of the green argument for replacing the Capital’s old taxi fleet.

Half a million miles, two careful owners, sixteen plates. In the end, that’s all that will be remembered of my prematurely stood-down London Fairway taxi, thanks to those awfully nice people at Transport for London (TfL). More of them later. And yet, within those sixteen glorious years resides a wealth of faces met, journeys I’d hope were professionally executed and an odyssey of unforgettable stories cut short when more was yet to come.

I’m told by others that my London Taxis International Driver was the best model ever made. A beautiful, reliable Nissan 2.7 litre engine that never let me down and had nothing done to it, bags of room in the front for luggage and my 36″ legs and a boot that took plenty of oil, water, tools and a personal bag. The body had hardly changed since it hit London’s streets in 1958 save for a few modifications. And this is why it had become such a historic London icon right up there with Big Ben, the red London bus and a police officer in a cape. Check all those films with London as a backdrop.

So, in the year when the world comes to the greatest city for the Olympics 2012, this street star disappears and that doesn’t make sense. Lately, I’ve had my taxi photographed by tourists up to five times a day. My good friend Carlos taught me to invite the snapper to also sit in the driving seat for that extra special picture that then goes around the world as it hits social networks.

TfL, the Mayor or some faceless committee, in a vain effort to appear green, have decided to put a fifteen-year time limit on taxis when issuing new plates. I’m guessing that to them, old means bad and new means efficient and therefore greener.

My taxi admittedly has inferior emission standards. At a cost to ourselves, we Fairway owners were rightly forced to convert our exhaust systems to meet Euro 2 standards. But not a puff of a subsidy that London buses get. Currently, the latest TX4 is spewing out at the admirable emission standard of Euro 5. That’s fine, it even sounds nicer than Euro 2. But keep your thumb on the hand brake buttons before you let me roll down into the Thames. The Fairway has a far superior fuel consumption to the TX4. I am currently driving carefully at a rate of around 26 miles per gallon. Before exhaust modification, it was up to 29 miles per gallon with the help of the excellent Biodiesel that my radio circuit, Mountview sold to us subscribers until recently. Indeed, Radio Taxis as we’re officially known is the world’s first carbon-neutral taxi circuit in the world and has used that angle to gain and retain many lucrative accounts with corporates who in turn embellish their own BSI and ISO standards by association.

In green terms, all taxis were built in Coventry in the Midlands of England, the very cradle of the Industrial Revolution alongside Manchester. British goods for British people were made by British people. An economic success story. The new TX taxis are now made in China, yes, the Far East. Not only are they inferior products (radiators, and gearboxes not making the first annual inspection; I even saw a rear window drop out when a lady closed her passenger door), but I’m thinking carbon footprint in Yeti proportions here. With the Fairway disappearing off our streets at a scary rate now, the demand for new taxis will distil up to further unbalance the global share of the auto industry, albeit miles from multinational volumes. More shipments from the orient, outsized carbon footprint.

But it’s all set up now, factories tooled up and increased demand for new taxis. So what could we Fairway owners do to maybe save the planet and continue to promote London with our iconic symbol?

That’s it, wouldn’t you think? With a new green engine in the famous Fairway for which we’re promised five more years of annual inspections, the vehicle stays on the road saving fuel and steel production and the classic vehicle continues promoting London around the World, thus nurturing our biggest employer–tourism. But sadly, for some unfathomable reason, we’re not allowed to convert to LPG in Year 15. Thus, in my case when the plate came off on August 1st 2011, something mysterious happened on July 31st making it incompatible with or just plain unworthy of an LPG engine.

Looks like they just don’t like us. So who are “they”? Well, TfL is the overall London transport authority that begat the bastard child of the Public Carriage Office (PCO) and called it after some hesitation TPH, Taxis and Private Hire to us taxi drivers. The old PCO stood solidly for decades in Penton St, N1. Although architecturally a prime example of Sixties brutalism, its interior felt like your old school. Going inside as qualified drivers or taxi proprietors, our memories of nerve-wracking Knowledge appearances came warmly flooding back like being read stories on the carpet by our favourite teacher. Maybe it was just a flashback to our younger days or maybe it was just that cosy feeling generated by the friendly faces at various counters we came to know and love. It also smacked of the old Welfare State where we were all securely looked after from cradle to grave, not yet living under the tyranny of the bottom line as we do now. You felt sorry for the Knowledge girls and boys you passed on the stairs as you walked to a counter for other business, the memory of knotted stomachs as you sat in the waiting room never leaves you. Who can forget that frightening draining of the memory as your examiner’s footsteps along the corridor heralded your Knowledge appearance?

Warning bells of change rang when Thatcher and her Estate Agents for Summary Execution Party transferred authority for taxis from the sound and very fair Metropolitan Police to the Department of Transport with the instruction that all Government bodies must pay for themselves. Overnight, we went from 15p to £68 for licence renewals in a world-record price hike and the atmosphere inside the PCO became less cuddly and more regimented.

Inevitably, as our political culture changed from relative liberal democracy to mediocre reformism, London institutions became centralised and the PCO was wrenched from Penton Street to the monolith that is the Palestra building in Blackfriars Road, SE1. Since then, we’ve become remote from our licensors and controllers. Instead of that interaction with real people at Penton Street, everything except for Knowledge appearances is conducted electronically now. In the event of losing one’s badge, a visit to the office is ruled out. Instead, the PDF Lost Property form is downloaded and sent off in the post. While arguably efficient, yet another human contact is deleted and we feel further remote from our masters.

In this personal vacuum, taxis have been merged closer to our unfettered rivals in Private Hire (PH). Unfettered because while our numbers have only slowly increased possibly at a rate of five to ten per week, PH has gone from 30,000 drivers to around 60,000 since they became licensed. In a shrunken ground transport market, our share of it has thus dropped further. The growth of the MPV as a standard PH vehicle and their dominance on the streets along with their semi-legal use of satellite offices where they basically ply for hire via a clipboard Johnny on the pavement outside clubs, bars and hotels has thus blurred the lines between the two sectors.

Consequently, with the demise of the Fairway, one less taxi model is visible on the streets of London. The TX will naturally replace that but some drivers will also opt for the Mercedes Vito Taxi, basically a Viano (already popular within PH) with a For Hire light on the roof. Confusion on the streets, is that a taxi or a minicab?

So, let’s look at TfL. To centralise transport policy for London as a whole made good sense. Before, we’d had individual boroughs making policies in overlap with London Transport and the GLC. Overall, many sensible measures came in that reduced traffic volume, improved the air quality and got London moving. But now it’s too easy to take policy in that vacuum without universal consultation, redress or respect. The various TfL boards are composed of invitees and quislings. My own union RMT are excluded from any process because being radical and therefore presumes a threat to the comfortable status quo, they’re not recognised and they don’t have to tell us why. The records and minutes of many meetings are secret and some appointees to committees are even salaried. Thus, one must ask in whose interests these trade representatives are acting? Exactly what was said about the fifteen-year time limit by the people on these boards whom you expect to represent the taxi trade and have some sense of tradition as mostly Londoners? Of course, we’ll never know. You’d think the TfL Philistines would look at the economic externalities of retaining the Fairway for as long as possible in order to maintain its part in promoting London as a global brand, but alas not. Tucked away in their monolith, they’re removed from our world. This executive decision to prematurely remove the Fairway is just an indicator of what may yet come. I call upon all drivers to make their representations to the Royal Commission on Taxis and Private Hire before the lines between them are blurred further beyond repair.

When the news of the new rule emerged there was hardly any opposition within the taxi trade, just some indignation and sympathetic nods from other drivers when stopped alongside me at traffic lights. Even the offer by one well-meaning taxi driver to create a legal fighting fund was met with cheques of support by just a few, thus we were unable to check the legality of the rule and make a fight. So, to the drivers who just kept rolling and thought only about the next job, you stood by while we were wronged. But now we shall all pay. As demand increases for newer TX models, their unit cost must increase with the rules of supply and demand. To our masters, you’ve let down the very city that gives you an income. If PH continues to grow unchecked and lines are further blurred with unfavourable findings by the Royal Commission into Taxis and Private Hire, the London taxi will become nothing more than a curious antiquity.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Armadillo swallows London Stone (21.08.12)

When learning The Knowledge some days remain etched in your memory forever. One such day for me was when I went to find a ‘point’ – London Stone – note it is not a definite article, even though it patently is.

I searched Cannon Street looking to find a clue to the elusive stone, up the sides of buildings, perched high up on a roof, inside the station, until I tracked down my quarry.

There behind a hideous grill attached to a scruffy 1960s office was one of London’s oldest landmarks, known to have been in the City since 1198.

It is an unprepossessing piece of Clipston limestone or oolite. With its round-shouldered top and twin grooves, measuring about 18 inches across, if found in a field, one would ignore it. Legend says that this small stone is linked to the destiny of our capital city, hence it is a Grade II listing.

Minerva the company that is developing the site now wishes to move this rare artefact. The name of the company is taken from the Roman goddess of wisdom, but in this instance, concerning a rare Roman piece of history not a lot of wisdom is being demonstrated, it’s just convenient for Minerva as they want to move the artefact a few doors down the street to the Walbrook Building.

The Walbrook Building, one of the City’s newer office blocks designed by Foster and Partners, looks like a metal armadillo, a very modern building but with few heritage nods at ground level. Two of the metal struts planted firmly into Cannon Street incorporate small black plaques that once marked former ward boundaries. They look a bit incongruous, to be frank, but at least they’re still on site rather than scrapped and dumped elsewhere.

The plan is to relocate London Stone to the front elevation of the Walbrook Building and a special display case will be built to contain the legendary. One of the existing grey panels will be replaced by a laminated glass wall, and the stone placed inside on an etched mild steel plinth. And the grille will come too, given a less prominent position beneath, plus the metal plaque that currently sits on top of them all.

The Stone has had a chequered history. It was referenced in Shakespeare’s Henry VI Part 2, but by the 18th Century, it was known more as a traffic hazard. The Stone was moved back and forth across Cannon Street and eventually ended up in St. Swithin’s Church until the building was bombed in World War II. Since the early 1960s, the Stone has been housed at street level in an office building, opposite Cannon Street Station, so it certainly has led a life of travel.

Old enough to remember the original Olympics in Rome, should this piece of stone be now relocated behind glass, as if it was a museum exhibit, in one of the most modern buildings of London, divorced from the everyday fabric of the city?

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Taking the waters (17.08.12)

One little published event in the Olympics was the 10km Open Waters Swimming in which competitors swam around a pond. We were 4th in the women’s (just missing the bronze by less than a second) and 5th in the men’s.

The event was held on The Serpentine in Hyde Park, the same waters where on Christmas Day a group of intrepid swimmers break the ice and ignore any broken bottles, submerged shopping trolleys or contracting leptospirosis appear on television in this annual event.

Swimming in open water has been practised for many years and one of London’s most famous is Hampstead Heath’s three bathing ponds which have welcomed swimmers for over 150 years.

In the truly British tradition of prudery mixed with a degree of eccentricity, the ponds are segregated.

In the male-only pond with its secluded sylvan fenced enclosure nudity is de rigueur amongst the regulars – the serious swimmers, chess players and weight-lifters for whom this is a sort of club. Out on the springboards and in the water, costumes are required. There are no longer any high boards – a sign of these cautious times.

As the Ladies Pond is the highest up the hill and benefits from being nearest to the natural springs in Kenwood it has by far the cleanest water. It’s hidden by an expanse of sprawling foliage to hide the ladies’ modesty.

There is also another pond designated for mixed bathing.

The ponds were originally dug as reservoirs by the Hampstead Water Company in the 17th and 18th centuries from the original malarial marsh which was then drained, before falling into disuse during Victorian times.

In 2004 the City of London Corporation tried to close the ponds on the grounds that they posed a health risk to swimmers amid local protest those plans were abandoned.

Now the ponds may close soon to enable 10ft high dams to be constructed. The City of London claims thousands of lives are at risk should the existing dams burst after heavy rainfall.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

Grumpy and dumpy (13.08.12)

One hundred years ago on the 13th of August 1912 Octavia Hill, one of the most influential women of her generation died. Scorned by the liberal left which is probably the reason the Guardian or the BBC will not be recording this century of her death.

In her life, she was a founder member in the formation of the National Trust, started the concept of London’s Green Belt, pioneered female activism and was the first to see the benefits of refurbishing Victorian slums to provide social housing for rent.

Many of her beliefs have fallen from favour; although never married herself she believed that a woman’s primary duty was with her family and a woman’s role should not encroach the male sphere – this meant she did not speak publicly and performed much of her philanthropy ‘behind the scenes’.

In 1864 with a loan from John Ruskin, she redeveloped a handful of run-down properties in Marylebone Place renting them to the poor at low rates.

So successful was this and other subsequent projects the Ecclesiastical Commission asked her to take over the management of a few properties in Southwark, which she did on the condition she could acquire a plot of land to turn into a garden for local people.

This ‘Red Cross’ garden soon became a village in south London providing open-air festivals, a flower show, indoor entertainment, education and a library club.

More redevelopments followed in Lambeth and Walworth.

Tenants had to pay their rent on time or be evicted, she argued fostered responsibility and respect for work turning the tenants into good citizens. To ensure they didn’t lose their home Octavia Hill organised employment opportunities.

Recognising her expertise the government of the day appointed her to the Royal Commission on The Poor Law.

In a refreshing change to today’s attitudes, she became a founder member of the Charity Organisation Society which aimed to promote a rational approach to giving by distinguishing between the deserving and undeserving poor, and by stressing the significance of individual responsibility. The charity was to be a vehicle for encouraging self-help which would be given to the deserving poor only. For example, the COS would not endorse just giving out money but would give a sewing machine to enable someone to earn a living. Octavia stridently opposed relief to the able-bodied; she argued that giving money in this way would be of no long-term benefit and, worse, would discourage the habit of thrift and saving for a ‘rainy day’. The poor need to be taught self-control and foresight, not come to rely on handouts.

Octavia’s vision and work helped to open up a professional role for women at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th century. She recruited middle-class women as volunteer rent collectors, although they had a much wider role than that title suggests. Octavia trained them to assess the way tenants were living and to inspect their homes; in addition to this rent collectors were expected to set an example, these women were in effect prototype social workers who, through the act of rent collecting, gained access to the lives of the poor whom they met twice a week.

Although Octavia Hill was overweight and didn’t suffer fools gladly she was a pioneer of ‘cultural philanthropy’ and was convinced that exposure to art and beauty could improve the life of the poor. She founded the Kyrle Society in 1875 which planted trees and flowers in urban areas and promoted aesthetics in the decoration and building of houses. This led to the formation of the Green Belt after the Second World War.

Octavia Hill argued strongly against government involvement in rectifying social problems: she resisted any participation of the State in providing welfare services and objected to council housing, school dinners and free health care.

But probably her biggest achievement was the National Trust which in addition to saving 350 houses from the Nation has preserved woodland and open spaces and over recent years acquired 720 miles of coastline protecting it from development.

For those new to CabbieBlog or readers who are slightly forgetful, on Saturdays I’m republishing posts, many going back over a decade. Some will still be very relevant while others have become dated over time. Just think of this post as your weekend paper supplement.

A road less travelled (07.08.12)

In Charles Street, Mayfair there remains evidence of the last vestiges of Georgian competitive running with a tentative link to the cabbies of their day. Dating from 1749 this pub has a curious name: ‘The Only Running Footman’.

The pub was once called the Running Horse and frequented by the footmen who were in service to the households of Mayfair. As the fashion for footmen dwindled one bought the pub and renamed it after himself.

London in the 17th century was a pretty chaotic place, with narrow streets, overcrowded, animals, carts and numerous other obstructions. A footman’s job was to run ahead of his master’s coach paying any tolls and clearing a safe passage.

After The Great Fire of London, many streets were clearer and the need for a running footman lessened, although they were then employed as house servants.

By 1750 a footman’s advertised annual salary was £7, including a smart uniform, white stockings and shirts with full board. But with ‘vails’ he could expect an income of £40 (about £60,000 in today’s money).

He had to be tall (about 6ft), look fit, and be nonchalant and handsome. Footmen were notoriously the source of the best gossip, trusted with clandestine errands and hanging around with women ‘above their station’. These runners were also useful in a household to fetch things and take messages before a reliable postal service had been introduced.

King Charles I’s household accounts record the payment of 2/- (10p) paid to a footman to run from London (presumably Whitehall) to Hampton Court.

The aristocracy would also like to pitch their footmen in a race with others from wealthy households. On the 3rd July 1663 Samuel Pepys recorded in his diary:

The town talk this day is of nothing but the great foot-race run this day on Banstead Downs, between Lee, the Duke of Richmond’s footman, and a tyler, a famous runner. And Lee hath beat him; though the King and Duke of York and all men almost did bet three or four to one upon the tyler’s head.

That old reprobate The Marquess of Queensbury is said to have kept the last running footmen as a mark of his own virility. The Survey of London records an incident (possibly anecdotal) in which ‘Old Q’ met his match:

The duke was in the habit of trying the pace of candidates for his service by seeing how they could run up and down Piccadilly, watching and timing them from his balcony. They put on a livery before the trial. On one occasion, a candidate presented himself, dressed, and ran. At the conclusion of his performance he stood before the balcony. “You will do very well for me,” said the duke. “And your livery will do very well for me,” replied the man, and gave the duke a last proof of his ability as a runner by then running away with it.

The pub’s full name is actually ‘I Am The Only Running Footman’ and has been the venue for many a historic London pub crawl, treasure hunt, mystery tour and even a novel by American detective fiction writer Martha Grimes.