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A tenner, guv? Ain't you got something smaller?

Strange taxi experience in Rockin' Radlett. For those of you who don't know it, the town is near St Albans and was given its racy epithet by a lady I knew called Babs, who used to live there.

Anyway, I arrive quite early in the morning and take a cab from the station. When I reach my destination, the driver has no change for a tenner, which is a pretty strange state of affairs given that most journeys are probably between a fiver and a tenner around those parts. I'm wondering what the hell we're going to do when he suggests I simply call his company later in the day for the return leg and pay up then. Or, if I'm coming back to the railway station, I could maybe pop into their on-site office and cough up.

I was gobsmacked. It was like the taxi driver equivalent of an honesty box.

And, yes, I did go back to the office at the end of the day and pay its rather bemused occupant.

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