Never take the front seat in a taxi…

Not if you’re on your own. I used to always, always, hop in the front, not wanting to seem rude. Politely engaging in short conversations with the driver – whatever their topic-du-jour – I was in the cab, next to them, agreeing, commenting, adding my opinion to theirs. No matter how homophobic or racist or sexist they were. I just didn’t want to be considered rude or snobbish.

Are you married?

Yes. I reply (omitting the fact that it’s to a woman).

They talk to me about property values, the state of the economy, immigration, roads, and all I want to do is stare out of the window and disengage. This relationship that we have is both fleeting and annoying. An invasion of privacy. But it’s my fault none the less. Sitting in the front of the taxi gives licence for conversation.

When my neighbours sold their house, all I wanted was that it not be bought by property developers. When the property developers bought it, all I wanted was for them to improve the house, not sub-divide.

They’re building a new house in their back yard. My small, 2-bedroom dwelling will be dwarfed, surrounded by beige-brick monstrosities.

We, of course, objected… to their plans, to their noisy renters who drink far too much on most weeknights and continue their party into the weekends. We objected, and rang the police to send someone out when at 5 in the morning the bloody noise was still thump-thump-thumping in our bedroom, even though our bedroom was the farthest room from next door.

As I get older, I realise just how precious my privacy is, and just how much I need to preserve it in order to also preserve my sanity.

There’s little I could do when the council decided to approve the development plans, except negotiate for a taller fence. But at least now I choose to sit in the back of the taxi.

I’m not being rude, I just like my space, that’s all.