The Cabbie. Part three.

[Kitosdad]

Our relationship was certainly worsening daily. Each time I picked Rebecca up from the academy all she could talk about was her fellow actors and actresses.She had little time now for our relationship, or so it seemed, so that night I told her that we had better call it a day and go our separate ways.

Although she seemed to be upset about this her determination to become successful on the stage took first place in her thoughts, and so it was that we separated.

The very next day I tried to enlist in the RAF with the high expectancy of becoming a pilot.

My high-flown hopes were harshly grounded by the interviewing officer, who told me that I was not of sufficiently high intelligence to be even considered for such a post.
My morale was at ground level and I had no-one to turn to for advice except my Dad.

He thought that a stint if the forces would do me a world of good, so back I went to the RAF enrolment centre and I signed on for three years as a driver.

My posting was to Germany where I had a really great time. My duties were not in the least demanding, and most of my time was spent in the NAAFI or on my bed snoozing.

In the evenings we would drive into town and spend the time in a Biergarten dancing with the local girls. It was here were I met Mia, a Dutch girl who was to occupy my mind and thoughts for the next couple of years.

Mia was a school teacher and four years older than me.
The most wonderful thing about Mia was the fact that she didn't have the primness of Rebecca, and she and I soon became lovers. This was a wonderful time for a young man, and I was enjoying myself to the maximum.

All too soon my time in the forces came to an end, and I shared a tearful goodbye with my Mia .
She was mature enough to accept that we had both had two wonderful years, but we both realised that I was not destined to become the husband of a school mistress.

I returned to Newcastle and once again I turned to my Father for help and advice.
Whilst I had been in the forces Dad had bought a couple of Hackney carriage licences from a man who was about to retire.
He had foresaw that I would be bothered about finding gainful employment on my return to civvie-street, so he had wisely planned for my return.

So, that's how I came to be driving a taxi the night I had met Rebecca.
It was rather obvious that there was no possibility of Rebecca and I getting back together again. The status-differential was too great, but there was no reason that we couldn't still be friends, nevertheless I never called her up to talk about this, and she never contacted me either....................................

To be continued....

The Cabbie. Part four.

The Cabbie. Part one.
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