I Drove It My Way by John Healy Read Free Book Online Page A

of the most beautiful women of the time, a full set of coins of the realm and various other artefacts.
    This giant obelisk was discovered deep in the sands of Alexandria, where it had lain for nearly 2,000 years. In 1877, it was on its way to England by barge but the tow ropes broke in a storm off the Bay of Biscay. Six men lost their lives trying to secure the tow ropes and their names are written at the base of the obelisk. There are actually three of these giant monuments, one in London, one in Paris, and the third in Central Park, New York.
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    On the other side of New Bond Street there is a blue plaque dedicated to the memory of the famous Admiral Horatio Nelson, one of England’s greatest heroes. He lost the sight in his right eye in 1794, but not in a battle as some people think. Later on in his adventurous life he was on board the Victory when he was shot dead by a sniper on a French vessel. This was the Battle of Trafalgar, in which he won the day. The crew placed his body in a barrel of brandy to preserve it so he could be returned to England intact. Apparently, some sailors did not know that he was in the brandy barrel, tapped off a couple tots and consumed them. They must have felt sick when they were told that Nelsonwas in the barrel. He was laid to rest in a large tomb in St Paul’s Cathedral.
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    We move along now to Bruton Street where we find another plaque on a modern building stating that the present Queen Elizabeth was born in a house on this site. She lived here with her mum, Elizabeth, and her father George. The house has long since been demolished.
    When Edward VIII abdicated over his love for an American divorcee called Mrs Simpson, his brother George became king and Elizabeth became queen. They then moved to Buckingham Palace. George died when the young Elizabeth was abroad, and was quickly recalled for the state funeral. She was then crowned Queen Elizabeth and her mother became affectionately known as the Queen Mother.
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    Just around the corner from Berkeley Square in Charles Street there is a pub with a very long name: ‘I Am The Only Running Footman’. Apparently the original footmen were employed to run in front of their bosses’ carriages and clear the way with a big stick through the milling crowds of peasants. (We are talking about between the sixteenth and seventeenth century when life was cheap.) Years later, footmen became the understudies to the butler in wealthy houses, chosen for their charm, height, muscular appearance, good looks and mainly their trustworthy character.

Chapter 22
    I was hailed one day in Park Lane by a very distressed lady who said she had just been dumped by her lover of ten years. I hate having to deal with these emotional issues. She was crying all the way to her home in Pimlico and told me she was going to end it all the moment she got indoors. When we arrived I got out of the cab and sat down beside her in the passenger seat. It took nearly half an hour to calm her down and get a promise from her that she would do nothing rash. I had forgotten to turn the meter off and all the time I was consoling the passenger it was running, but I had to write off the £30. Anyway, I was well pleased when I saw the same lady a few days later, smiling and looking very happy. Maybe I missed my vocation and should have been a psychiatrist instead of a cabbie. I really felt good and I was proud to think I may have contributed to the saving of one single life . . . or was she pulling the wool over my eyes for a free taxi ride?
    A gent hailed me once and said to me, ‘Selfridges’, to which I replied, ‘No, I just drive the cab’. Get it? Sell Fridges . . . I don’t think he got my trivial little joke so I just took him to where he wanted to go in total silence. Yes, you guessed it, again no tip.
    A long time ago, I thought that I had the President of France in the back of my cab. He kept