Black Cabs and Bronzed Elephants.

There is something about travelling down Oxford St in the back of one of the iconic black cabs that gives off an air of luxury. Never have I felt quite so, glamorous, than in that moment. And by moment, I really mean about an hour that it took to make the small trek from Mayfair to Soho. I walked there, for goodness sake. So is the Oxford St traffic. In fact, something about being in the back of a slow moving cab gives you a new perspective on a city. That, and I didn't have my face buried into the top of my scarf concentrating sternly on braving the chill and avoiding the huge puddles that form in the uneven London streets.

How did I end up in the back of said cab?

A task from work led me to pick up a Christmas hamper at a location off Regent street. I didn't get the name of the company, merely the address and indicators of the right building. Multiple doormen and two shiny bronze elephants. Riiiiight.

Once I arrived at the street it was immediately evident it was a very upmarket area of London. It houses a dizzying amount of embassies as well as Lords, Earls and Countesses, and that's just the street I was on. The Wikipedia list of individuals who are living/have lived on this street is like a who's who of the rich and famous (and, unfortunately, mostly dead). I mean, its the navy blue on Monopoly, for Pete's sake.

The address I was heading to became pretty obvious. When you're looking for elephants there's not too much that can be distracting. Three burly men were standing outside, and while very friendly and kind, I can only imagine what the scene must have looked like to an outsider. Obviously giant bronze elephants aren't going to indicate your average place of business but nor did I expect quite such a peculiar situation. Although not invited inside, the glimpses I had were of utmost wealth and luxury. Inside looked like a cross between Buckingham and Beckingham Palace.

I was bidded to pick up Christmas hampers for two of the bosses and when one of the doormen returned with an elaborate haul, I definitely felt like my value went up a couple of mill. The earlier question of how had I got there, ("Do you have a personal driver?" was followed by a smirk and a chortle when I announced I had walked, "I wanted to!" I pleaded) but immediately seemed less ludicrous when I realised that what I was about to transport was probably not your average 'keep it under £10' Secret Santa. With the weight, both walking and taking the Tube were ruled out.

So came my first cab experience. And in true female fashion, I had a lovely doormen hail one for me. Of course.

I was able to spend the ride watching the people brave the cruel outdoor temperatures meanwhile luxuritating in the foot space which must surely be one of, if not the, most spacious in the worldwide foot space ranks.

I have no idea what was in those packages I ferried. I do know they were from a members-only elite casino, though I don't think I picked them up from the casino itself. I feel like if I knew, someone may come to kill me.

Yes, I feel oh-so Ocean's Eleven right now.