PART III …THEN BATTLES MORAL DILEMMAS

I ease my way into the good life. First, I start drinking fair-trade coffee, even though I’m suspicious of the idea of “fair trade”. I also cut meat almost entirely out of my diet. I miss the pleasure a good burger gives me and the crunch of grilled bacon – but the farming of cows is a major contributor to climate change and pigs are smarter than toddlers. Animal ethics: check.

On my commute, I pick up every scrap of litter that I find. I arrive at my destination with armfuls of plastic bags and soggy KFC boxes, my fists crammed with other people’s cigarette butts. I look for old people who might need help crossing the street. I find none. Perhaps they all have mobility scooters now.

On the motorway, I invite every idiot to merge, even when they’ve had the chance to change lanes for half a mile but only decided to do so just before the exit. I feel a small, blossoming sense of pride and a growing smugness. Long life, here I come! But it’s a lot of work, and meetings are far more tense when a dozen moist cigarette butts fall out of your pocket each time you pull out your phone – your phone that was made by suicidal workers in China, and your pocket that was sewn to your trouser leg by impoverished Bangladeshi urchins. Everywhere I turn lurks another moral dilemma. Where does the giving stop?