Taxis rush up and down Penglais Hill taking students home. This was last night when it was pouring with rain. They flood out of the clubs and bars, coatless, naturally and are too tired, pissed or unfit to make the climb on foot. There are no fuckin’ taxis in this town, I heard one student shout. There used to be more and you can’t blame them for clocking off early to save taking a load of drunk youths who are likely to throw up in the back of their cab. They speed past, their wheels making a whishing sound across the rain soaked tarmac. A group of students huddle by the entrance to the SPAR on the corner of Northgate Terrace. Two girls who had been standing further up the street on their mobile phones run down to join them, one of them exclaiming, we’ve got a taxeeeee!
