the taximan and the lost colonial

This is a true story....one I've been holding onto until the end of this year because it was so special and life affirming for me that I thought it would be smiling reflection on a year of ups and downs. It's a bit long for a blog post, but I think you'll enjoy it if you have the time to read it. I have told this story verbally and have shared a shorter version it in a couple of emails. I'm happy to now have the opportunity to capture it in full here.
The Taximan and the Lost Colonial

One Saturday, late afternoon last May, I found myself on a train bound for Romford after spending two wonderful days in Londontown with my blogfriend Katie getting to know one another and seeing what seemed like the whole city on foot. We had filled our short time together with as much living and sharing as we could live and in person. We hit as many London hot spots as we could while we walked and talked and walked and talked....Trafalgar Square, Picadilly, 10 Downing Street, Big Ben, Portobello, Notting Hill, Covent Garden (for a wonderful Italian dinner with Pip and Joan on the Friday night), Camden, Kensington, Soho.....and a couple of places in between.

By the time we said our goodbyes, Katie running to catch the last flight home to Guernsey and me catching the tube and train back to the Wilsons Mansion in Romford where my emerald friend Pip resides with the love of his life Joan and their infamous cat Zig, I was filled with a multi sensory collection of feelings....and a little bit of fatigue. It was a good kind of tired....a smiling kind.

Once I checked the subway map to verify the connection I needed to make to catch the train to Pip's house, I sat down and began reflecting on the whirlwind two days. It was somewhere between Victoria Station and the train connection when I realized I had neglected to write down Pip and Joan's home address in my journal. I knew I had it...on a piece of paper somewhere, and I recalled I had made sure both my husband and my mother had all of my travel particulars via email, but it dawned on me that somewhere along the line I hadn't transferred it into my book.

At first it was only a wee bit disconcerting. I knew I was going to be arriving to an empty Wilson's Mansions except for the infamous Zig the coolcat to greet me. Pip was away in Belfast for two days, and Joan was at a cricket match that afternoon, to be returning home that evening. They had given me my own key just in case I was there before Joan. It was up to me to make my way from the train station to my destination.....all of about a 10 minute walk.

My sense of direction is something I rely on all the time. I had never been lost before and had always been able to find my way through many cities. Heck I had just navigated London England for goodness sakes! My job too takes me into the backwoods of this province, down half hewn roads where addresses are sometimes dubious and had never been lost. In fact, I had always thought that if ever there was a reality show made for someone like me it was the Amazing Race. Consequently, my confidence kept me hopeful that I could find my way.

Besides, this wasn't the first time I was going to be arriving at their house. In fact, we had journeyed from the station into the city and back already together. Pip had been clear in his directions as he drove me to the station only the day before. I relied on the fact that it would look and feel familiar as soon as I stepped off that train and onto the platform. No problem, I thought as I settled into my seat observing the people around me, I'll figure it out, and if worst comes to worst, I just need to access my email from somewhere to access the address. Or, call my Mom in Canada. I could always call my Mom.

As soon as I stepped off the train, however, and looked around at a quickly emptying platform, I knew I was screwed. Between the time Pip had originally dropped me off and the moment I found myself with a backpack full of choice souvenirs accumulated that day, I had saturated my brain with sites and sounds and new memories. It had pushed away any clear memories of where I was supposed to be going. The fact that I didn’t have the address and that Pip and Joan weren’t home? Well, that made it all the more sticky a situation.

There were two exits from the platform. To the right was a carpark where we had parked a couple of nights before to head into the city for a Brick Lane curry dinner. To the left was where I had been dropped off the day before with specific directions from my BHP host. I chose to go left. The only knowledge I had left in my saturated noggin was the name of the street and that it was a well travelled one. Figuring if I could just get to the street, I could find my way, I found myself standing at the exit completely turned around and lost. One look at the cars arriving on the wrong side of the street, and I knew my sense of direction was completely devastated. I headed out in search of a store or restaurant where I could some help, wondering what these crazy people drive on the wrong side of the road anyways.

Around the corner was a convenience store. I entered the quiet establishment ready to close for the evening, went right up to the counter and explained my situation, and asked for a telephone book. The owner’s grasp of the English language was minimal so after a bit of charades, he retrieved a massive tomb full of yellow pages and told me that was all he had. No white pages....No computer there either…..or not one he was planning to allow a wayward Canuck access to. Dismissed, he told me to go back to the train station and hail a cab. Fat lot that was going to do if I didn’t have the address!

With no other choice, I did as I was told and made my way over to a little shack office where three busy people sat taking phone orders for taxis and waited my turn. It was starting to get dark. There was no way I was going to traipse through unfamiliar streets on my own once the sun went down. The thought of calling my Mom whisked through my head again.


“Can I help you?”

“Hi….I’m from Canada and I'm lost." (YES, I was going for the empathy jugular) "I’ve lost the address of the home where I’m supposed to go. I was wondering if you have a phone book in there I could borrow to look up the address?”

Laughing and cockney friendly, …. “We take incoming calls here, duck, we have no need for a telephone book, sorry about that….” YES the man called me duck! I could tell that I had made for an interesting blip in their monotonous evening in call centre hell.

“Any chance you have a computer in there? I know the address is on an email I sent. If I could just......”

Laughing harder…. “Look at this place, dear! The only technology we have are these phones! Do you know the name of the street?” (The people standing around waiting for their taxis and waiting in the queue behind me must've thought I had completely lost my mind. I pushed the thought away, but continued to feel very very small.)

“Yes....ummmmm. Maybe you could order me a cab and if I can get to the street, I’ll recognize the house.”

“Sure duck. It' ll be here in a few minutes. Go stand over by the curb and it will pull up there.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help. I can't believe I've done this!….” I say smiling, feeling embarrassed by my stupidity and situation.

"Don't worry, it'll work out. The taximan will be able to help you. Good luck."

It seemed like an eternity before a taxi pulled up to the curb. By then, I had shored myself up with a bit of self talk……… “you wanted an adventure….you wanted to be challenged, take it as it is and if all else fails, you can go stay in a hotel or find a pub and drink all night…. I can always call home....I wasnt that far away.....” It helped. Confidence that I’d sort it out returned and I laughed at the thought of my Mom's reaction to a phone call from her eldest daughter across the pond asking for a street address.

I opened the front door of the cab. My eyes met the eyes of a friendly man of retirement age who looked like he just came off the set of Coronation Street. He looked FAMILIAR, albeit because of a TV show! Do you know how grateful I was to see a father figure who most likely lived in the area all his life that looked like he grew up on Cornation Street?? I know, I know....big assumptions, but what a friendly jovial looking face! Not knowing whether there were standard rules about whether or not one can sit up front….

“Hi. Would it be alright if I sat in the front seat.”

“Sure you can,” he said smiling.

As I clambered in, I held out my hand. “Hi! I’m Dana."

“Nice to meet you Dana. I’m Henry. Where are we headed?"

"Nice to meet you too Henry. You know what? I don't know where we're headed, Henry. I’m lost. I don’t know the area. I’ve lost the address of where I am supposed to go. I know the name of the street though and if you could get me there, I’m pretty sure I’ll recognize it and the house.”

"What is the name of the street, dear?"

“B****wood,” I respond.

“Upper B****wood, B****wood, or B****wood Common?”

“Did you guys run out of names for streets? Oh my God, Henry I don’t have a clue! Are they all really close to the station because I know we aren’t very far away from the house from here?”

“Yes, they are, but that’s alright we’ll find it,” Henry reassured me while laughing at my comment.

“Thank you,” I said as I put my trust in this man's hold.

As we drove off, we began a conversation sharing bits of our lives…..where he had travelled in Canada, what I was doing in Romford, what he used to do for a living, what I did etc. It seemed almost normal! In no time, however, I realized we weren’t on the right B****wood street. None of the buildings looked familiar at all. I noticed a couple of restaurants and wondered aloud if they would have the internet. I could retrieve the address that way. Henry replied:

“I doubt it and I don’t think there are any internet cafes around here either.”

“I can’t believe how ridiculous I feel about this Henry,” I admitted as I gazed out at a darkening city landscape completely foreign to me. “I think we need to try another one of those streets. This isn’t it.” I was starting to lose my optimism, sunk in the stupidity of my situation. Changing the subject.... “Do you know that reality show, the Amazing Race? Do they have that show here?”

“I don’t think I've heard of it, Dana. Big Brother's the one people watch here. What’s it about?” he asked as he turned the taxi around and headed to the next street with the same name……

“Well, it’s a worldwide scavenger hunt. You have to navigate different directions and modes of transportation with a partner and you compete against 9 other teams. They eliminate one pair each week until the last team standing wins a million dollars. Of all the reality shows out there, this is the one I always thought I’d have a good chance at and now look at me! I can’t even navigate my way to a place I have already been to! How pathetic is that??”

We laughed together as he continued to remain calm and again to reassure me we would find Pip and Joan’s house.

“If I could only get my hands on a phone book which seems to be extinct in this country………or access to the internet”, I contemplated out loud.

“My wife has the intanet. You could use mine. I live just around the corner here?”

“Really? Wow! How nice of you to offer, Henry. Thank you. You don’t mind taking me home with you?”

"No problem at all, Dana. It would take only a couple of minutes then we'd be set in the right direction, now wouldn't we? My wife is home and probably on the internet right now chatting with her sister."

(An aside here...........no I hadn't completely lost my mind. I had been very alert about the streets we had been on, where the station was from our location. My intuition told me that this man was trustworthy. It seemed like a good risk. I had my bags right by my feet and if need be, I could hop out and most likely outrun him something Cagney and Lacey like! I believed in this man's kindness. And MAN what a story it would make!)

We turned onto a suburban street where the dwellings all looked right out of the 70's.....mock Swiss. Snuggled in between the cookie cutter townhouses was a small home with a pebble stone cottage feel to it. The little garden was well loved and blooming. Henry pulled up to the home, turned off the taxi and summoned me to come along. Hesitantly and little nervous to say the least, I followed him. He unlocked the front door and as he opened it, he shouted out.....

"Marion! I'm home early. I have a lost Canadian with me and she needs to use our intanet. She needs to find a local address on an email she sent to her Mum in Canada. "

"Do you bring home many lost Canadian's Henry?" laughing and wondering what I had done.

"You're the first!" he replies laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

Out popped this bundle of energy into the hallway....a friendly smiling warm woman in her 60's dressed in casual clothes.......

"Oh my goodness! You DO have a lost Canadian with you! Come in! Come in! Would you like something to eat? Some tea? I'm Marion."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Marion. I'm Dana. Thank you for the offer, but I probably should just get the address and find my destination. This is so kind of you two. I really appreciate you letting me barge in like this."

"Come in, come in.....my computer is in my craft room. Please dont mind the mess. It's full of projects half done," said Marion as she guides me into an overstuffed room full of knicknacks and knitting. It was like her own nesting spot. In the corner of the room glowed a computer. Marion pushed aside some papers, welcomed me to sit down comfortably and then she stepped back to let me access my email site. In two minutes, I had the address. A wash of relief flooded over me.

"I have it," I said turning to Henry. "The address is........"

"We're just a few minutes away from there," he smiled reassuring me.

As we headed back out the door, I gave Marion a hug and thanked her for her kindness again. She said something like it was no problem at all, and then wished me well.....and a very nice to meet you. She was so nonplussed about this interuption on her Saturday evening, that I left so full of amusement and smiles. what a friendly innocent trip she was!

In no time, Henry pulled up to the front of Joan and Pip's house. Safe and sound. I pulled out my wallet and gave him double the fare........and a hug. "Thank you Henry. You are a Godsend."

"You made my evening Dana. It was nice meeting you. Enjoy the rest of your trip."

"Well, you certainly made mine! And we're both left with a story to share aren't we?" We laughed together and said our goodbyes.

As he was pulling back onto the street, I fumbled with the key in the lock. Before I could turn the key, the door opened. Joan made it home before me...the cricket match had been called early because of the drizzling rain. She smiled showing some relief.....

"You know about an hour ago, I started to get a bit worried about you," she said.

"Joan, about an hour ago, you should've been worried about me......," I laughed showing my own relief......"you won't believe what just happened! It's so good to see you!"

I dropped my bags at the foot of the stairs and followed Joan into the kitchen where the wine was poured and a bite to eat was consumed.....where a wonderful evening of sharing stories and feelings ensued between two people who felt like we had known one another for a long long time. It was way past 2 am before sleepiness hit. I crawled into bed in the guestroom, also known as BigJohn's room, and fell asleep feeling very very lucky and well cared for.

postscript.....in all the craziness of that evening I of course neglected to write down Henry's address. I will never be able to thank he and Marion properly for taking a risk on a lost little Canuck. What we are left with is a good story of a happenstance connection and the knowledge that compassion thrives out there.