A split-second decision yesterday to take a Black Cab from an IAPS meeting in London led me to a brilliant conversation with Adam, my driver. Within moments he asked where I’d travelled from. “Shropshire,” I replied. His eyes lit up.
“Shropshire!”, he replied, “I went on a residential there as a child from London in the 1970s. To somewhere called Boreatton Park.” (This borders our playing fields here at Packwood). “It gave me confidence and led me to a lifetime of travel, and fishing – I learned to fish on the River Perry”.
It was one of those extraordinary encounters that one has. We chatted about the power of residentials, of taking a young person out of their comfort zone and of the role nature plays in forming a person’s outlook on life – all of which we take for granted here in idyllic Shropshire, but for a youngster from North London, it was for him a life changing experience.
We kept chatting, the discussion moving to The Knowledge, the formidable training for Black Cab drivers in London, and something I have given a couple of Assemblies on.
I have read up on The Knowledge, a process that features in many a leadership and psychology paper and the subject of a BBC documentary, however I had never spoken with anyone who had undergone the gruelling experience. For the first time, I was hoping my journey from the Barbican to Euston would take much longer than it actually did!
He spoke about the training: starting with the 320 Blue Book runs encompassing over 60,000 streets and thousands of landmarks. All done on a scooter. He reflected that 75% of trainees drop out, worn down by the sheer rigour of it all. Adam’s greatest pride is that he stuck at it, even when his training was knocked back for two years after his first ‘appearance’, a one-to-one assessment with a TfL examiner. It was sheer perseverance – no shortcuts, no hacks – that finally got him through.
He described the camaraderie too with fellow trainees, quizzing each other, sharing routes, bolstering morale after tough appearances. He talked about the history of this great assessment, which was first introduced by Prince Albert upon hearing complaints about taxi drivers, then undertaken by horse and cart. The expectation of dressing smartly for the daunting final interviews, referring to the assessor as “Sir” or “Maam” remains. All of this to honour the heritage of the badge, a tradition stretching back well over a century.
Sitting in the back of his cab, I was struck by Adam’s journey. There was no escaping the sheer hard work, slow progress, inevitable knock-backs and a deep, disciplined engagement. It is precisely that depth that makes it so powerful.
In an age where AI can map a city in milliseconds, The Knowledge stands as a counter reminder of humanity – that expertise formed through graft, repetition, and lived experience has an irreplaceable quality. The entrenched tradition of the appearance’ matters not because it resists change, but because it anchors us to what it means to put effort, dedication and mastery into something.
As Adam dropped me off, he tapped the wheel, looked at me and said, “it is the most fulfilling thing I have ever done, and I have never been happier in life as I am now”.
I jumped out of the cab to catch my train (which was cancelled), thinking of our own pupils at Packwood. How the habits of hard work, perseverance and pride will shape the adults they become. And how important it is that, amidst technological acceleration, we continue to champion processes that cultivate character, not just convenience.
The Knowledge isn’t just about knowing London. It is about knowing you can achieve more than you think possible. That mindset, championed by the great Kurt Hahn, remains one of life’s most valuable traditions.
