Having gloriously happily given up driving aboot 15 years ago, I now rely hugely on bussies and taxis – like many fellow wrinklies.
A pucklie years ago, I also gave up going into town for meals in the evening, mainly because finding a cab after a certain time was like catching a falling star. (OK, I also used to start nodding off over a curry at the back of 8pm.)
Relatives and younger friends tell me horror stories of being forced to walk from packed taxi ranks in the early hours to the outer reaches of the city, without passing a vacant car on the way back down.
I chat to drivers all the time during my daytime sorties. Quite simply, the majority of them prefer working during the day. Nights can be a hassle. Drunks and so on. Understood.
When I am caught cab-less, it’s usually when I arrive at the railway station or airport, where only limited vehicles are licensed to attend. What a disaster that is. Tourists queueing up like they’ve arrived in some hick town miles from anywhere. And apparently the airport is now charging £7 per customer. At least Dick Turpin gave his hold-up cash to the poor.
So, I hope the new go-ahead to Uber will make a difference to the city’s abominable taxi service. I await my son’s instructions on how to work it on my phone.
As for older folkies who won’t be able to summon them, hopefully there will be more of the traditional taxis on the go.
Meanwhile, I’ll continue my nae doot highly irritating (to drivers) habit of telling them which way to go to my destination, because so many – possibly new and relying on satnav – take me on a roonaboot, more expensive route. Drives me skite.
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of the Evening Express and The Press and Journal, and started her journalism career in 1970
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