THE TAXI DRIVER

by Catherine Smith (Oxford)

He drives his taxi along wide roads, past butterscotch stone buildings with mullioned windows; then bright boutiques and furniture shops flash past; the latest designs. But it’s the culture he loves: paintings, statues, books; all that learning patiently stored; waiting.

Years ago he was a dustman, cleaning up after the city’s wild nights - at work long before the revellers woke - he’d watch light bathe the streets clean. Then the van clattered back to the depot, brim-full of pleasure and decay.

These days, he mourns the endless traffic, snarling up his beloved city; the dead-ends and congestions; belching fumes. Now, everyone is rushing yet everyone is stuck. We need to love what’s been here all along, he says.

Tonight he’ll go back to Jericho. Once there were 18 pubs, now only 5. He’s comforted by the permanence of the oldest buildings - they’ve weathered the centuries, they’ll never come down; they’ll wait for the future, whatever it brings.

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What Catherine Smith says about THE TAXI DRIVER:

Inspired by conversation with my taxi driver from the BBC to George and Davis