Show me the way to go home

On the other hand, my wife is on first name terms with many of the cab drivers and will chat to them on her way to work. There's something quite disconcerting about getting into a taxi and the driver, a complete stranger, being able to tell you what you've been doing recently, what you had for dinner last Friday... even where you're going on holiday this year. I swear some of these drivers could go on Mastermind with my life as their specialist subject.

But the straw that broke the camel's back came last week when my wife and I were left in the pouring rain for half an hour. The only black cab in sight refused to take us, saying that I had been 'awkward' the previous time I was in his cab.

It always amazes me how much of a problem some people have communicating with someone who has a speech impairment. It's almost like they hear me speaking differently and immediately switch off, deciding that there's no point even trying to understand what I'm saying. This is the only explanation I can come up with for the events that occurred when I first flagged this cab driver down a few weeks ago.

Upon hearing me speak, he turned and asked my friend where he was taking me - never a good start. Of course, my friend just told him to ask me instead and disappeared off on his way.

As the cab started moving, I leaned forward to give him my address, but barely a word passed my lips when I was interrupted with:

"Oh I know where you live. Grange Avenue, isn't it?"

I started telling him Grange Avenue wasn't anywhere near my street, but he again stopped me mid-flow:

"No wait a minute, you're the one who lives on Mill Lane, aren't you?"

Wrong again! This guy had an encyclopaedic knowledge of where he'd previously dropped off other disabled people, and seemed intent on guessing where I lived instead of stopping for a moment to listen to the address I was actually giving him!

Eventually through sheer luck he hit upon the right road - I let out a loud cheer as he said the name in order to stop him continuing with his random guesses. I can only presume he'd once picked up the previous owner of our bungalow who, luckily for me in this case, was also a disabled person.

I'll leave you to judge for yourself which one of us was being awkward!