“Are you, what do they call it, partially visionary?” asked the taxi driver.

A black cab in a dark street, no light on and no engine running, it is not the easiest thing to see.  I guess the driver had been waiting, possibly waving or somehow trying to catch my eye.  Eventually he resorted to beeping the horn, which worked for me but probably not for the neighbours at 6am.

When I got to the cab the guy was annoyed.

“They should tell us” he complained as I climbed in. “It’s just not fair, it makes us look bad.”  Despite my protestations that it was no big deal and that I usually get an automated call back on my mobile, which helps, he wouldn’t let it go.

“I did it, I pressed the button and it should have rung.  It’s not like we can get out of the cab and knock.  I heard about another driver last week who rang the door bell at 6 in the morning, but it was the wrong house and they threatened him… they really should tell us when people are partially visionary it’s just not right.”    

“So what do you do then?” he asked.  “I work for the council” and phew, we were back in far more comfortable territory – ‘council –shit, arena – shit – museum of Bristol – shit – schools – shit...” Thank god for predictability.

When we got to the station he said, “Right I will walk with you” I politely declined, explaining, “It’s fine, I do this several times a month”.

He became more and more insistent.  Eventually I grabbed my bag and headed off, at a pace.

So why do I tell you this?  Partly because it nicely illustrates the bizarre explanatory conversations that I frequently have to get into at all times of day or night, when all I want to do is buy a sandwich (can’t read the menu), catch a bus (can’t see the number) or as in this case, doze in the cab before catching a train to London.  

But the real reason I wanted to catch this vignette is because I love the phrase partially visionary, a mix up that suits me pretty well.  So cheers drive, I am ndeed Partially Visionary and so now is this blog.