by Gladys
Moving Target, Volume 3, Issue #2, Spring 1992
It's a mad mad day before Christmas, one of those rare busy periods that should have lasted for two or three months but, this year, comes in the form of a busy two hours an a Friday afternoon in November.
What happened to the peak period? The October/November/December pre-Christmas rush when market-surveys burst blood-vessels in The City and the West-end had hernias over late art-work. Was it all a dream? Has time lent me a pair of rose-coloured specs, nostalgia numbing my brain?
"In my day...ten up in Soho for the City...earned more in day than I do in two now...record earnings an the 15th October 1988" forlorn cries from an aging, dying breed remembering Boom-town and the abundance of drinking vouchers.
Any-road-up, the story, It's busy and I haven’t had time for food - half three and my body demands fuel - now! I make my pick-ups in Soho and WC1 and take five with six up on Little Russell going EC. Hastily chomping thru a sandwich I come across an ambulance team on the corner with Coptic desperately trying to get access into a residential block of flats.
They’re well pissed-off having evidently been here for some time, pushing buzzers on the intercom, getting no help. I listen in to the chat.
Please, we're ambulance crew, the man in no. 24 has collapsed.
'No - I can't buzz him - he’s collapsed "I've already buzzed other flats, you're the fifth person who won’t let us in"
"Please...it could literally be a case of life and death."
The dude seemed on the brink of tears, his two colleagues were tensed and pacing the tarmac. One of them went to the wagon, presumably to radio in their problem the dude, whislt the dude on the intercom persisted with the paranoid resident.
"Please....."
I pulled up alongside the wagon and gestured woman to turn on the siren.
"Wake 'em up."I mouthed, "Let'em know who you are.
She put the siren on, the two guys at the door appeared to be annoyed, puzzled until, message received, the door catch buzzed and the door opened.
I felt pleased with myself, it's good to be a servicant - the only problem lies with what cause to serve. I POB'd controller and hit the road, burning rubber and waking up the mean City streets.
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