Locking my car door from the inside has always represented safety to me, but the low-emission zone put paid to that
Last Monday, I sold my car. This had to be done. Later this month, the mayor of London will extend his low-emission zone; my old VW being a diesel, every journey was about to cost me £12.50. But as I kept telling myself, there were other, more virtuous reasons for this mournful visit to the Shoreditch branch of the Philip Schofield theme park that is webuyanycar.com. Whatever else I might have done wrong in my life, at least I’m now no longer contributing to the city’s congestion and pollution.
Travelling home on the tube, however, I was overcome by sudden sadness. As a teenager, nothing was more important than passing my test; even now, I still feel weirdly proud of the fact that I can drive and weirdly disdainful of those who can’t. I regard driving as a feminist act. It has saved my bacon so many times; locking my car door from the inside late at night has always represented safety to me.