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Train strain

Jeremy Clarke

Wednesday, 7th May 2008

Jeremy Clarke on his Low Life

‘He’s using me, Faye, I know he is. Typical man. It’s his cousin I really like. No, not him — he’s mental. The other one. Michael. Lovely eyes. Eyes. What did you think I said? I’d be open all hours for him. He’d only have to ask. He’d only have to look at me, to be honest.’

To create a welcome distraction from this woman’s telephone conversation, I manoeuvre a hand into my pocket and fish out my phone. I call directory enquiries then book a cab to meet me at Cardiff station. The man who takes the booking promises to be there in person to meet me. ‘You’ll easily recognise me because I’ve only got one arm,’ he says. ‘And I’ll be wearing a blue William Hill baseball cap. William Hill the bookies? I’ve got a soft spot for the horses.’ Is the cab horse-drawn? I ask him. ‘If only,’ he says.

He’s waiting for me at the station: one arm, blue hat, just like he said. He waggles his stump cheerily at me. It’s a 20-minute drive to the sales yard. His sister has a Citroën Picasso and a very nice car it is, too. And so how many miles on the clock has the Picasso I’m going to see got on it? I can’t remember exactly. It’ll be in the advert, I say, feeling for my copy of the Auto Trader. But I no longer have it with me. I’ve left it on the train.

The taxi driver takes the loss of my Auto Trader much more badly than I do. Previously ebullient, he’s now disconsolate. He urges me to buy another because if I can’t remember the claims made for the car in the advert, I’ll be at a disadvantage when it comes to negotiating a fair price. I’m not buying another Auto Trader, I tell him.

Outside a newsagent shop he pulls over. He’s just nipping in to buy a ‘dirty book’, he says. Two minutes later he comes out of the shop at a fast walk, jumps in the car and we drive away at speed. Half a mile up the road, all smiles again, and steering with his stump, he pulls an Auto Trader out from under his jumper and hands it to me. This unbelievably sympathetic human being has only gone and nicked a copy for me using his one good arm.