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Taxi Driver Mr X

I arrived back in London from St Louis at 7am and decided to treat myself to a taxi home. I'm a dribbling wreck in the mornings. Bright eyed and bushy tailed is one thing I most certainly am not and after a ten hour flight this particular morning was certainly no exception. Now I don't know about you, but London Taxi drivers seem to fall into two camps. There's the non chatty one's and the chatty ones. And when they're chatty, they're really chatty. Don't get me wrong, I like a good chin wag, but in the early hours, after a long flight, I'm practically a vegetable. I'm going to refer to my driver as Mr X, because, heaven knows why, he doesn't want to be identified. He should be knighted let alone identified.

Anyway, Mr X was filling me in with the last ten days events in London and I was nodding along happy to be heading towards my bed. At one point he asked me what I was up to at the moment and I mumbled something about the whole museum project. To my surprise he almost pulled over and parked the cab to ask me more. I explained that it was early days but I was quite determined that within a few years we would have a museum of folklore somewhere in this country. He was almost beside himself. Both his parents are from Jamaica and he is first generation UK born and immensely proud of the fact. "You know this is the sort of place I would love to take my kids. There's nowhere for them to learn about all this stuff." And of course he's quite right. I promised to keep him informed and we swapped emails so that I could let him know when the website went online. A few days later I sent him an email saying what a pleasure it was to meet him and I would most certainly let him know the minute the site was up and running. My emails have my address at the bottom. At the end of January this year a small envelope landed on my doormat. In it was a letter from Mr X.

He had spent the last few months telling friends and fellow cabbies how important he thought the project was. Along with the letter was a cheque for £1000. I almost burst into tears. I was so incredibly touched I didn't know what to do. I emailed him immediately explaining that I couldn't possibly accept it. He emailed back saying that if I thought he was going to contact all the people who had donated ten pounds here and twenty pounds there then I could forget it. Mr X I salute you! It is people like you who will make this dream a reality and I very much hope that one day in the not so distant future I will be able to welcome you and your family through the doors of the newly opened museum.

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