Regular readers might remember the drama I had in the summer when I was refused a short taxi fare.
A throwaway line in a blog post about The Teenager and a potentially dead cat was picked up by the BBC.
I guess it’s a sad indictment that I’m so inured to being treated shabbily now I have MS that I didn’t make more of a song and dance about it at the time and I will always regret walking away from the taxi line, embarrassed and upset.
Thankfully, Carmarthenshire County Council took up the case, tracked the driver through CCTV cameras and pulled him in for a chat.
So far so good. The lovely peep at the Council has been keeping me up to date and I fully expected the driver to put his hands up, give some kind of excuse – the economy, stress, a bad day, whatever – and we’d all be on our way, with the him perhaps being a bit more mindful in the future.
So I really wasn’t prepared for the phone-call I received yesterday; The Licensing Committee had met, the driver was there to put his case forward and a statement I had prepared was read out to the fifteen members.
The driver has denied everything.
Apparently I only asked him for directions.
Because of course, that’s what someone with MS would do, after an extremely uncomfortable train journey, searing heat and facing a long trek up a hill with a suitcase to somewhere I had never been before.
The CCTV shows me speaking to him for over a minute – rather long for the directions of ‘up the hill and take a right’. In reality, I had been arguing my case, pulling out my ‘I have MS’ card, paperwork relating to the MS Society Cymru Council meeting I was there for and basically pleading for him to take me to the hotel, a large tip guaranteed.
The Committee will be meeting again in December to hear more evidence and I have now decided to appear in person. If there is one thing I cannot stand above all, it is to be called a liar.
I’ll be driving there.
The case continues …