One way or another, the life of a taxi driver has been portrayed in books and films as anything but boring.
One man who would have agreed with that assessment, albeit not in the manner suggested by those spicy “Confessions” films of the 1970s, was Falmouth driver Richard Gale, who ferried my dear Mum around town with much care and kindness in her final years.
A little reluctantly, as he returned Mum from one of those trips in 1988, he agreed to my request for a Falmouth Packet interview about his work.
And it quickly became apparent that it did indeed involve a great deal more than just transporting people around from A to B.
In a single day, as I subsequently wrote, Richard could well find himself performing the work of father confessor, diplomat, tourist officer and under-cover agent, to say nothing of the very long and unpredictable hours.
“We get people pouring out their troubles to us as we drive along,” he told me. “We hear everything, right across the spectrum.
“With the youngsters, it’s trouble with their boyfriends and girlfriends; with the older people, it’s marital problems. It’s very touching on occasions.
“I think it does help if they can talk things over, even if – or perhaps because - it’s with a perfect stranger. We don’t ask them about their problems; they just come flooding out.”
Richard was at pains to point out the acknowledged code of practice among the taxi drivers that ensured such “confessions” remained utterly confidential.
Likewise some of the arrangements he unwittingly found himself party to concerning the clandestine movements of some of his customers.
“There are occasions where, if a husband or wife came on the scene and started asking me questions, I would simply have to deny all knowledge of certain trips and people,” he admitted.
As for police matters, though, there was only one stance: “We are obliged to pass on any information they may be seeking and this we do; we are constantly picking up people wanted by the police for some reason or other.”
On the other hand, there would almost certainly have been times when customers would have been diplomatically prevented from attracting police attention.
As Richard explained: “Obviously there can be problems through drink when you are picking up people from clubs in the early hours of the morning – although they are usually most apologetic the next day.
“If someone starts spouting on about something – politics or whatever – I agree with them rather than cause offence.”
Talking of confidences and cover-ups, I am reminded of the “father confessor” role played – during a murder trial, no less - by Penryn community constable and former mayor Len Brokenshire.
When I interviewed him on the occasion of his retirement in 1987, he recalled how, during a period of leave, he found a stream of Penryn folk heading for his house.
Having been formally interviewed in their own homes in the presence of their spouses, Len’s visitors disclosed that they had not been entirely honest about their whereabouts at certain times.
So now they confided in Len where they had really been and asked him to “put the matter straight, please.”
Len subsequently volunteered to break into his leave and come on official duty, but his boss said: “I think you’d better stay right there; you’re doing a better job!”
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