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Sound Off Sam 14 – Fox

It’s still January!

The first month of a new year is a long trudge, like watching an Eastenders omnibus on repeat.  It’s unsurprising that academics have calculated the most depressing day of the year falls in January.

Supposedly, the date is worked out by a complex mathematical formula including factors such as debt, weather, salary and time since Christmas. I’m no Stephen Hawking but even I can see the dimensional homogeneity of the formula cannot be verified. So, I devised my own, equally scientific, method of calculating the emotional value of a day:

(tWL x tDL + tTBG) / (tWD x tRW + tWE) + 365 = evD

where: tWL is time spent watching Lorraine, tDL is time spent driving Lorraine, tTBG is time spent playing Taxi Board Game, tWD is time spent with Dad, tRW is time stuck in road works and tWE is time spent watching Eastenders.

Like any mathematician worth their professorship, I’ve been testing my mathematical proof and I found a flaw in the formula. After long days re-modelling the data, I’ve added in a new factor to make my calculation more robust:

(tWL x tDL + tTBG) / (tWD x tRW + tWE) + 365 – tLD = evD

where: tLD is time spent in Lockdown.

Using my new, improved calculation, I’ve observed my emotional state is on a downward trend. Whilst my happiness increases from watching more of the lovely Lorraine Kelly CBE on morning telly and being less exposed to my dad’s jokes, my mood is affected by spending less time on the road in Queen Lorraine II and the length of time trapped indoors by lockdown. By my calculation,  I was 25.237% bluer on Blue Monday this year.

 

I usually battle through the January blues by booking my summer holiday. However, this year is different. Instead of booking a holiday with friends, I’ll be booking a honeymoon with my fiancee.

My Christmas engagement may have been accidental, thanks to a fateful alignment of gold wrapped chocolate confectionery, Tony Hadley’s tonsils and a badly wrapped Christmas gift, but, as it turns out, I’m excited by the prospect of spending the rest of my life with Susie Quattro.

I’m most excited by my idea to upend one outdated tradition of marriage. I’m not making a stand to support Susie’s feminist principles, I just really like the sound of Mr. Sam Quattro, Personal Transport Professional and I’m desperate to shed the burden of my maiden name. I’ve had enough ‘you’re no Page 3 stunner’ jokes to last a lifetime.

Another thing I usually do to lift my spirits after the bright lights of Christmas have faded is to bag a bargain in the January sales. Covid cancelled my High Street hunt for bargains this year which has compounded my January moody blues.

Thanks goodness then for my sponsors at Taxi! Board Games. Their flash sale from 29th – 31st January will add emotional value to my days. My tTBG will increase after the great value purchase of one of their new edition board games and my tDL will increase from moonlighting as a Taxi! Board game delivery driver.

There isn’t much demand for my services as a Personal Transport Professional at the moment due to lockdown restrictions. The few fares I do get are short hops from Supermarkets to homes. It doesn’t leave a lot of time to build a rapport with my back seat clients although I did make an instant connection with one passenger recently.  Usual cabbie-punter privilege applies…

“Taxi for Fox?”

“That’s a trolley full. Need any help with your bags?”

“Is that them all in?”

“Where can I take you today?”

“Yep, know where you are. Nice houses up there.”

“You know, this is the first time I’ve had another Fox in my cab.”

“Yeah, my name’s Fox too.”

“No. It’s just me, my mum and my dad. D’you have family?”

“That explains the trolley full of food. My best friend has two teenage boys and he’s always moaning about the food they eat.”

“Well, to be fair, it’s more what they eat. They’re always raiding the biscuit cupboard and there’s never a Toffypop when he wants one. I’m actually godfather to the eldest.”

“Yeah, we are. I sometimes take him to football and we enjoy playing Taxi Board Game together.”

“No, don’t worry it’s not just you. I love Ian but even I can see he’s turned from nice kid into Teenage Mutant Whinja Sloth.”

“That’s what his dad calls him now. Apparently, he sleeps a lot and all he does when he’s awake is eat Toffypops and whinge.”

“No, don’t worry. Ian’s the same. There’s some sort of mutation in the teenage brain that means they can’t pronounce certain sounds or letters.”

“Haha. Ian’s catchphrase is ‘Uh doan like ‘at’.

“I think the translation is ‘I don’t like that.’”

“No, don’t worry. You’re not alone. Every parent of a teenager shares your misery. My friends youngest, Darren, is giving him grief as well now.”

“Yeah, he does actually. He calls him ‘Daz of Dazmania’”

“Cos he leaves a trail of destruction behind him.”

“He likes to try to fix things but is only good at dismantling them and then leaving the broken parts lying around the house.”

“Well, I know they’ve had to buy a new toaster and a new printer recently. Apparently, what he’s really good at is slamming doors. He’s developed his own catchphrase too.”

“You’re so unfair.”

“Behind the red car?”

“That’ll be £5 please.”

“Can I help you carry your bags in?”

“No? Are you sure you can manage?”

“Okay…Wait!..Mrs Fox… You’ve left your Toffypops.”

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