Is there anything more English than riding in a London cab?
After a 7 hour transatlantic night flight we walked out of the nightmare known as the Heathrow customs and arrivals lounge. I was hot and sweaty after standing in line to go through passport and customs. Heathrow has been under construction since 19-ought something. Always an unpleasant experience.
The sweatiness of the arrivals area was in stark contrast to the rainy, miserable, slightly damp, and cold that greeted as we left the arrivals area. Our plan had been to put my parents in a cab while we took the tube to our hotel. My dad took pity on us as we were all bedraggled and not very alert — he sprung for a cab. Yay, Grandad!
Had my son been a little less sleepy he would have squealed at getting to ride in a London taxi cab. Our cab was bright purple as well. A moving advertisement to laundry detergent. I forget which brand.
In a series of unfortunate and unplanned events on our part, we took many taxi cab rides through London, Manchester, Warwick/Stratford-upon-Avon, and back to London. After the first ride the bloom was off the rose for me. But, my son loved all types of transportation around England…places, trains, automobiles, and taxi cabs.
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