This black cab snaked into the drop-off point at The Westbury and decanted a couple. Without the door closing, another couple filled their seats. The doorman told the driver, "Apollo Theatre". The cab scratched its way out and, at the lights, red for them, he spoke down into his left shoulder, "The Apollo! You wanna cab? Yer cn wawlk that!"
They let it go. But for several minutes (it's further than he thought) it rankled. They wondered, are we at a point in post-Call-Me-Tony Britain where the bloke who earns his livelihood from those who hire him, can make crass remarks, without thought or care for the guys in the back - strangers?

It was a tough call, but they knew he needed sorting, and giving him the dead fiver, no tip, he heard a voice, coming to him facelessly, from the cab roof above the window, "You should be careful what you say to strangers. He might be a fucking war hero with artificial limbs". Then, slightly louder and grittier, "He couldn't walk it."
They heard a sad apology ("I didn't know you had that") as they stepped off and into the lobby. I don't know now who slept worse that night.

I know this: if you get the chance, see Mamet's monumental short play "Glengarry Glen Ross". Soon. It closes end Jan. And it's unforgettable.
I know this, too: dates are coming in for the spring and we are fit to burst. I don't know when I last went so long without wielding the guitar in anger. I am frustrated by the wait, but that's showbiz, and it's tough in the middle. Haven't seen anyone else play either for a long time, but tomorrow (Weds) Springsteen at the 02 with my boy the Barrister. I try not to talk about my kids in public, and they have both had a life, so far, way out of the lights and the crap mags. But I will tell you, I have never been so proud as at that moment in the Middle Temple hall, when he passed by, one of an elite few, in wig and gown, Called To The Bar. Some people are put here to change a rotten world. I hope he is one of those.

This black cab snaked into the drop-off point at The Westbury.......it stays with me. Groundhog Moments. I want it to go away, so I can write again. Maybe if I write about it, I'll clear my fuddled mind, at last.

SH