Julia Stephenson: The Green Goddess

This week I was prised from the anonymity of my eyrie into the eye of the storm - yes, the congestion charge has hit west London and, as the only person in the area who seems to support it, I've found myself unusually in demand.

My media frenzy (well, three interviews, but it seems like a lot more) began two weeks ago when a lovely girl from the Beeb appeared. For the first shot she decided it would be dramatic if I leant out of the window of my sixth floor flat yelling: "My name is Julia and this is why I love the congestion charge," while she filmed from the street below. "Lean out just a bit more!" she kept shouting.

As I inched ever further out of the window I thought how terrible it would be if I toppled out. There would be no other residents left alive to explain why the charge is a good thing. Mind you, after repeating this 50 times I thought death would at least bring this misery to an end.

While "love" may be putting it a bit strongly, I support the charge (no death threats, please) because it will reduce congestion levels and improve air quality. Anything that makes people think twice about using their cars has to be a good thing - 20 per cent of emissions emitted by Londoners comes from car driving. And all the money that is raised from it will go towards public transport.

Many people would prefer to avoid the hassle of driving if public transport improved. The congestion charge in central London raised 93 million pounds for public transport between 2004 and 2005 and things are better but more needs to be done.

But, bizarrely, our Government would rather spend billions on the Iraq war and an estimated £60bn replacing Trident rather than provide the country with a decent transport, health care and educational system.

Go figure.

Anyway, on C-day (Monday) I survived a potentially terrifying gladiatorial debate on BBC evening news between me and the chairman of the West London Motorists' Association, which was dead against the charge.

I'd read about this lot and wondered if I'd get out alive... Mr Car (not his real name) turned out to be a charmer and we got on like a house on fire - as long as we avoided the C-word.

The charge is now on its fourth day and the streets of Chelsea are noticeably quieter. Meanwhile, my media frenzy continues.

Uzbekistan TV has just asked for an interview. They want to meet me at the Serpentine in Hyde Park. Hmm. I fear this may be Borat's revenge or a disgruntled motorist hoping to do me in. I will watch out for poisoned umbrellas. I wouldn't put anything past that lot.

j.stephenson@independent.co.uk

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