Martyn Halcrow

A Taxi Driver Writes

I drove through Kensington Mall into Kensington Church Street and found myself looking at a police van with its lights flashing. I waved it on but it soon became clear that it was flashing me. I was asked to turn off my ignition and stand on the kerb. The officer driving the van asked me if I knew why I had been stopped. I did not. He told me that I had just driven through two red lights at Notting Hill Gate. I had no recollection of doing this, but saw no reason why the policeman should be lying. I began to speculate as to why I might not have been concentrating. I spend a lot of time writing in my head. I was writing a letter at the time I was stopped. I offered this goofy explanation for want of anything more useful to say.

The policeman reminded me that I am a professional driver. Perhaps I should stick to writing when at home. This makes perfect sense, Your Honour, but I would like to point out that I have been writing letters in my head, whilst driving, for at least twenty years. I have an accident, on average, every 150,000 miles.

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