BY ROGER WATSON
The sleek black Mercedes S350, summoned on my Uber app, drew up outside our hotel at Heathrow Airport minutes after I entered my request for a car to Terminal 5. Out popped a smartly dressed driver, beaming from ear to ear to assist with our luggage. The car was spacious, immaculate, and the journey was smooth.
I detected an accent that was not English and, always interested in the provenance of my Uber drivers, I was happy to chat. The driver, now known to me as Aleksandr, introduced us to his ‘assistant’ Funnyman – a toy dog – and then launched into a pre-flight check: did we have our passports, tickets, mobile phone and wallets, and had we left anything in the hotel safe? We assured him we had left nothing and remembered everything, and he double-checked which terminal we were going to.
Clearly, this was a man who left nothing to chance. As someone who has rarely left anything behind or lost anything as vital as my passport, I fail to understand people who do; but people do, and our driver was only too aware. I was on the way to Istanbul with my grandson Jack. Both of us have written about our time in Turkey’s great city. Jack’s piece appears in these pages and mine is published elsewhere.
The journey to the first-class end of Terminal 5 was short, but I had time to ask him about an advertisement for a book which was attached to the back of the front passenger seat. I was unable to read the writing which, in ignorance, I identified as Greek. But it was Cyrillic, and our driver, Aleksandr, was a Russian speaker.
I was immediately interested as I have a Russian-speaking son-in-law who comes from former Soviet Lithuania. Aleksandr, it transpired, came from Latvia – also a former Soviet satellite. It also transpired that Aleksandr was the author of the book, which was inspired by conversations with his passengers.
I was keen to purchase a copy for my son-in-law, but Aleksandr assured me an English translation was coming out very soon. I scanned the QR code on the advert, we swapped WhatsApp contact details, and parted at the entrance to the terminal with assurances from Aleksandr that he would let me know when the English translation was published.
True to his word, I had a WhatsApp message from Aleksandr while I was working in Hong Kong early in December to let me know about the publication of the book and providing a link for purchase. I bought it immediately, and it was waiting for me when I arrived home for Christmas.
While much of this fascinating and charming book does emanate from Aleksandr’s conversations with his passengers, mostly it is about Aleksandr, his journey from Latvia to London, and his views on family life, work, education and politics. Of course, Aleksandr is an immigrant – the very word that can divide a dinner party like no other.
But Aleksandr is precisely the kind of immigrant we need. One who has mastered English, worked incredibly hard, learned and applied what he has learned. Moreover, while he maintains as much of his own culture as he can, especially at home with his children, he has no desire to impose his culture on ours. While his is not a hard-luck story, there must have been uncertain times for him and his wife coming to England.
However, there is not a shred of self-pity in Aleksandr’s writing; he is clearly compassionate and cares for people. He likes to make sure that vulnerable passengers are past their front door before he drives off. He takes an interest in people’s conversations and, if the passenger is receptive, he is not beyond giving them some life coaching.
I find myself remarkably sympathetic to most of Aleksandr’s views, especially on political figures such as Margaret Thatcher and Donald Trump (Aleksandr does not suffer from Trump Derangement Syndrome). His views on abortion do not accord with mine, and his view of the former Soviet Union and, especially, socialism is through the rosiest of spectacles.
The many failures of the Soviet system right up to the point of its collapse are not considered; the gulags do not even get a walk-on part. But I get the impression that one could discuss these matters with Aleksandr in a civilised manner over a glass of vodka without being labelled or castigated. As I intend to use his services in future, we may get the opportunity to do just that… minus the vodka.
I thoroughly enjoyed this short, readable and entertaining book. It is beautifully but mysteriously illustrated. The pictures are neither labelled nor attributed.
The City Speaks in Small Voices: Reflections of a London Chauffeur by Aleksandr Olenich (2025) is available on Amazon. Aleksandr also has his own webpage – VIP Taxi – where you can book him and, more importantly, his Mercedes.
Roger Watson is a Registered Nurse and Editor-in-Chief of Nurse Education in Practice.