That is a very long article. I skimmed most of it, then thought I better get back to some work.
My Dad used to be a London black cabbie.
I remember getting into a boiling hot cab in the summer with shorts on and burning your legs on the black vinyl seats.
Then there was the important (when you were a kid) job of spraying some kind of cold start spray into the engine during the winter, while my Dad turned the engine over. It would start with an almighty clattery shudder and throw a cloud of sooty diesel smoke out the back!
He had quite a few famous people in his cab; disappointingly, he said that Sean Connery was the rudest man he’d ever had the misfortune of taking the fare of.
Oh, and he ran a woman over who ran out in front of him from between two parked buses. Completely her fault and she was OK apart from laddered tights and scraped knees (oo-er). She was late for an interview, so my Dad gave her a lift there.
When he stopped (due to ill health) some bloke from Brighton came up on the train and bought his cab. Said he was going to use it as a private vehicle.
It comes in very useful for getting about town when down in London! Even almost 30 years since he last did it, my Dad can almost always give excellent directions of the best way to go to get to a certain place.
He even had to help a coach driver about 15 years ago, when we were coming back from a holiday in France. He was doing a drop off at Kings Cross but had no idea where he was going, so my Dad sat up the front and gave him directions.