Qu’est-ce que le travail?
I quit more than six years ago, enough was enough.
I get up around 09.30-10.15, put up a pot of coffee, eat the tangerines, apples, mango, pineapple, and strawberries that I diced and sliced the night before, check emails, sometimes send WhatsApps to my grandkids, telling them how much I love them.
Then I brush my teeth, get some fresh boxers, socks, and a shirt, take a ten minute shower and get dressed.
Around midday, I’ll walk from Rotherhithe Tunnel, near my house, to London Bridge, cross the bridge and walk around the City, down alleys and courtyards, all the places that I couldn’t drive down when I drove a Black Cab.
If I’m feeling fit, I’ll walk along Fenchurch Street, down Lloyd’s Avenue, past Tower Gateway DLR station, cross Tower Bridge, and walk home along Tooley Street and Jamaica Road.
If I’m worn out, I’ll grab a 47 bus, and go home that way.
Maybe after more coffee, and some sushi, I’ll do a thirty minute circuit of Southwark Park, anything to keep down to 77-78 kilos, and a 90 cm waist.
Vacuum the place before management gets in, then play on the iPad or iMac, or if I’m bored, peel some potatoes and wash and cook some veg, ready for the enemy to cook some steaks or chops when she gets home.