An image keeps coming back to me that I saw a couple of weeks ago of a shiny, black cab with two passengers – a Mum facing the driver and a daughter, on one of the pull down seats, facing her Mum.  I saw the black cab as, on the way to dropping my daughter at majorettes training, I turned a corner to find it in front of me, sparkling in the evening sun.

Immediately I was transported back to my childhood when, on a very special occasion, we (usually my Mum and I) would get a black cab home from the train station, cinema or theatre.  The thrill of sitting in the cab, in it’s funny little flip seat facing my Mum and talking of the day or evening we had just spent together as we sped through the night prickled down my spine again, nearly thirty years on! 

When I was a child, we didn’t have a car and so travelled everywhere mostly on foot but sometimes by bus (don’t get me started about sitting on the top of a double decker, especially an open topped one!).  However, once a month my Mum would go to Bejam’s (later bought out by Iceland) to do a ‘dry shop’.  This included flour, rice, pasta, tins and all frozen goods for our family for the next month.  Once the shopping was completed, we would then order a taxi to come and take us and our shopping home – this was never a black cab. It was always some sort of saloon car or another and it didn’t have the same feeling about it, especially as I was usually crammed in along with bags of dog biscuits!

I wondered if the young girl in the black cab had the same feeling as I had in my childhood? Did all the little lights and belts and signs intrigue and excite her as they had me?  Was it the perfect end to a perfect day? Did she feel wonderfully special? I’m not sure but I hope so!