Memoirs of a London Cabbie: Memoirs, #1

By Robert Pemberton

Hop into Artie's black cab for a whirlwind tour of London, past and present!

 

Memoirs of a London Cabbie is a heartwarming and humorous collection of anecdotes told by Artie Billings, a seasoned London cabbie, who has witnessed the city transform over decades. Through his passengers' journeys - from nervous brides to celebrity encounters, passionate activists to nostalgic couples - Artie weaves a tapestry of laughter, love, and historical echoes.

 

Discover:

Memorable characters: From quirky tourists to ambitious entrepreneurs, Artie's fares bring London's diverse population to life.

 

The hidden magic: Explore secret corners, tucked-away gems, and the city's enchanting twilight hours.

 

A touch of history: Learn fascinating tidbits about London's past while navigating iconic landmarks and bustling streets.

 

Witty observations and funny quotes: Artie's unique perspective is sprinkled with humor, making the journey as entertaining as it is informative.

 

Whether you're a seasoned Londoner or an armchair traveler, Memoirs of a London Cabbie will whisk you away on an unforgettable adventure through the heart of this vibrant city.

 

Perfect for fans of:

The Rosie Project by Graeme Simsion

A Street Cat Named Bob by James Bowen

The London Chronicles by Sarah Waters

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Pemberton
• Release date: Feb 20, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224988846

Robert Pemberton

Robert Pemberton is passionate about writing books, articles and publications for people who need to find quick, easy and affordable expert advice and solutions to their problems. In an easy to read format with real life examples, Robert guides the reader step by step through simple and practical solutions.

Book preview

Chapter 1: From Blighty Boy to Black Cab King

AH, LONDON IN THE SWINGIN' sixties! Think Mary Quant miniskirts, The Beatles belting out tunes, and a city buzzing with a youthful energy that could fuel a double-decker bus. That's the world I landed in, fresh off the train from a sleepy village called Kettlewell, where our biggest excitement was the annual sheepdog trials. Me, Arthur Artie Billings, a wide-eyed lad with dreams bigger than Big Ben, ready to conquer the concrete jungle.

Now, let me tell you, Kettlewell's high street was two shops and a pub, hardly comparable to the dizzying maze of streets I was about to navigate. My first challenge? The Knowledge, a test so infamous it could make a sphinx sweat. Thousands of streets, landmarks, hidden alleyways, all memorized like your granny's Christmas cake recipe. Studying became my life, maps plastered on the walls, muttering street names in my sleep. My landlady, bless her soul, thought I'd gone barmy, but I was determined. This wasn't just a test, it was a passport to becoming a London cabbie, a legend on wheels, navigating the city with the flick of a wrist and a cheeky grin.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. I memorized the Queen's favourite corgi's birthday before I could find Buckingham Palace. I could tell you the number of pigeons in Trafalgar Square on a Tuesday afternoon (it's a lot, trust me). And just when I thought my brain would turn to mush, a magical thing happened. The streets started to click. I saw patterns, shortcuts, secret pathways known only to cabbies and stray cats. London wasn't just a map anymore, it was a living, breathing beast, and I was learning its language.

The day I passed the Knowledge was like winning the lottery. My examiner, a gruff bloke named Ernie with a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp, actually cracked a smile (or maybe it was gas). I strutted out of that building feeling ten feet tall, ready to claim my black cab, my chariot to fame and fortune.

Now, Bessie wasn't exactly a chariot. She was a 1959 Austin FX4, dented, squeaky, and held together by sheer willpower and gallons of engine oil. But to me, she was a beauty queen. The smell of leather seats, the satisfying click of the meter, the purr of the engine – it was music to my ears.

My first fare was a nervous young couple headed to Heathrow for their honeymoon. I loaded their luggage, winked at the blushing bride, and promised them a scenic tour with no extra charge. Of course, my scenic tour involved a few detours past Buckingham Palace,