Taxi Drivers

I often find myself in taxis, to and from stations and schools.

I enjoy chatting to taxi drivers: they can be really interesting people, who have lots of time to think, and have often done all manner of other jobs previously.

I had a lovely journey across Sheffield last Monday, on my way to St Giles Primary. The driver recognised me from a previous pick-up, so I sat in the front and we chin-wagged all the way to Killimarsh.

He had given up a sales job for an international oil company, for what he thought would be a less stressful life. Unfortunately he finds taxi driving even more stressful!

I assumed it was because of the traffic, or dodgy, Saturday night pick-ups, but he said it's the uncertainty that gets him: not knowing if you have 2 minutes or 4 hours to kill between jobs, and not having the faintest idea what you will earn.

We also discussed an interesting novel I'm reading right now, Thirteen, written by ex taxi driver, Sebastian Beaumont. It's set against the strange experience of driving the night shift: the way the night and over-tiredness can blur reality; the oddly intimate way that passengers feel able to discuss not the weather, but their nervous breakdown or their unrealised dreams. But as it's progressing, even more surreal things are starting to happen... intriguing.

It's a shame taxi drivers tend to have a bit of a bad image. There are of course some bores, some miseries and some bigots, but mostly they seem pretty nice guys (I've only ever had one woman driver).

The two bottom drawings were done in my sketchbook on the way to school visits. The top image is a rare occasional when I broke my normal rule of never sketching from a photograph. All three were originally ordinary pencil drawings, but have been tinted digitally in Photoshop, using a different technique for each.