Travelling tittle-tattle, tall tales and shameless name-dropping by Jon ‘Don’t Call Me’ Norman

About Me

Sunday, 24 July 2016

A cabbies' tale 2


I moved to Spain seven years ago. I packed up, sold the family home in Bromley for two million quid and took off with the wife and kids. Told everyone I’d pulled off the ‘deal of the century!’

I used to joke I’d swapped Costa Coffee for the Costa del Sol.  I had money in the bank, my own pool and a beer in hand for every day of the rest of my life.

So how is it I now find myself sitting in the darkness of my car outside a South London housing block waiting for a pick up? 

I said we should spend £750k on a few two-beds to rent out but the wife didn’t want the hassle.  I didn’t put up too much of a fight.  After 23 years slogging away in the City didn’t I deserve a bit of the easy life? 

Today is day 89 of 100 that I’ve worked straight.  Kipping on my mum’s sofa at night staring at the ceiling wondering where it all went wrong

For a couple of years life was a dream.  Nothing more taxing than the doing the school run twice a day.  It was clean, it was hot and after a few months it became a little dull.  It was everything I’d hoped for.

And then I met Danny.  He was a friend-of-a-friend. 

I can’t work out who I’m angry at more.  Him or me?  What a fool I’ve been.

Danny is in prison now. 

My mistake was to be greedy and lazy.  The first thing had seen me do well in the City.  The second thing, well what can I say?  I thought Danny would make me more money than I was capable of and without me having to do anything.

I nearly invested all of it.  Way too much.  Seven figures.  And then the call came.

Fraud

He was a fraud.  By the time the police got involved the money was just about gone.  Lawyers took the rest.

How did I fall for it?  Well to be fair he went that extra distance to cover it up. Even now I can’t believe the lies and the front.  He met my wife, my kids he stayed at my house.  When my parents were ill he called.  And all the time he knew he was destroying my life.

Six years.  He’ll be out next year. If I saw him now and I had a gun I’d kill him.

The kids say I’ve changed.  I can’t get over it.