Bob Geldof was right – I’m irritating
I once shared a taxi with Bob Geldof. I don’t recall the whys or wherefores. But I do remember that the problem for Bob, on that particular journey, was not the taxi-driver’s airing of classic taxi-driver’s views, but the views expounded by his fellow passenger – namely me. Within a very short space of time, Bob had cottoned on to a truth expressed by my late father, Godfrey, that I am ‘a permanent victim of the idée fixe’. Like a dog with a bone, once I start on a topic, I just can’t give it a rest. And yet I find the chatty habit in others insufferable. The main reason for my unbroken record of not visiting London for three months is my fear of Mary’s unfortunate habit of striking up conversations with taxi-drivers. I know where this failing comes from – it was engrained during her provincial upbringing in...
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