In this month's
issue of Call Sign, the subject I've chosen to write about is 'Death'.
Many find this subject morbid, some find it taboo, but the one inescapable
fact is that we all become involved with it whatever our view.
Since time immemorial, academics, theologists and people from
all walks of life - not least taxi drivers - have discussed this subject
in great depth. All have searched for the answer to this unanswerable
question: IS THERE LIFE AFTER DEATH...?
Many religions concede that there may be life after death;
Buddhism insists that it is the case. Japanese pilots in WWII believed
that a better life awaited them as they fearlessly slammed themselves
against the decks of US warships. Perhaps I should emulate this practice
at my next annual visit to the PCO?
Dare I turn my Metrocab into a missile from a 10ft high ramp, shouting
"bonsai!" leaving the poor examining C.O. to pick up the pieces?
No need, for I, a humble forelock touching cab driver, have stumbled upon
the answer to the timeless riddle. I can confirm without fear of
contradiction, that there is life after death. I have witnessed this
amazing phenomenon with my very own eyes. The following story is true,
although the names of the taxi drivers have been changed as they have
requested anonymity...
"Harry From Camden is Dead..."
Several weeks ago whilst driving through the City, my mobile
'phone rang. It was my pal Terry. The conversation went something like
this:
"Hi, Terry! How's it going?"
"Steve," Terry said, (he always calls me Steve,
probably because that's my name.) "I have some bad news to give you;
poor Harry from Camden is dead!" I was stunned. I was only chatting
to Harry the other day and he appeared to be in good health. I
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Steve Shaller Looks
at Life after Death
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asked if he was sure...
"I have it on good authority," Terry replied.
"Who is your source of information?" I enquired. Terry,
who is on Mountview, told me that a guy called Bill had told the drivers and
even the Marshall of one of their City ranks, of Harry's demise; he had been
informed by one of Harry's better friends. It appears that bad news travels
considerably faster than good news and it wasn't long before acquaintances and
friends of Harry learned of his passing away.
All that week I thought of Harry. I kept seeing his face on the
screen of my mind's eye, reflecting how uncertain life can be.
Several days had gone by and whilst driving to work through
Moorgate, my imagination started to run riot. I thought (imagined?) I saw Harry
in his cab parked outside one of our account addresses. I stared long and hard
at this man behind the wheel of the TX1. Logic dictated that if this WAS Harry,
then he couldn't be dead. I should point out here that there is a long line of
intelligent people in my family...!
I got out of my cab and approached Harry in his TX1. "Harry,
you're back," I called out! There were so many questions I wanted to ask
him. What was it like? Were you above the clouds? Is celestial music played?
Did you qualify for a harp? There were so many questions I wanted to fire at
Harry. |
"I had a great time, thank you for asking," Harry said, "I
flew at about 35,000 feet, well above the clouds, no music - but I did
watch an episode of The Vicar of Dibley accompanied by a Fosters -
couldn't get a Harp, though."
I explained to Harry that not only was I in shock, but now
was seriously confused. "You've flown before, haven't you,
Steve," asked Harry?
"Only in a plane," I replied.
"Spain; I've just come back from Spain," said Harry, "where
did you think I'd been?"
"I was told you were dead, Harry..."
Harry laughed nervously. "If you can bring back a litre of
duty free liquor and two sleeves of fags from heaven, then good luck to
you."
I stretched out one hand and felt Harry. He probably got the
wrong impression but it seemed like the right thing to do. Warm flesh and
blood; he was very much alive.
Help from the Prime Minister?
Having established where this cruel rumour came from, I
apologised to Harry for any distress I may have caused him and his family.
As for the pillock on Mountview who had put this rumour about, he
obviously is in desperate need of psychiatric help. I gathered from Tony
Blair's successful electioneering, that counselling can be had on the NHS
and I strongly suggest that he queues up for a good helping of it.
Though mind you, this is not the first time such an incident
has occurred. Many years ago, a similar incident took place in Israel at
around the Easter period.
"Jesus Christ, you're alive! I had heard they crucified
you."
"Who told you that?"
"Moshe, the cab driver from Jerusalem."
"Cab drivers! Wait till I lay my hands on him: it won't
be healing I'll be giving him..."
Be lucky...
Steve Shaller (R75) |
