A postcard from Twyford Down, where the car’s progress is bought at the expense of place. And what place. Once full of exquisite natural beauty, Twyford Down was carved up for a road, to save motorists three minutes of time and now it is just a nowhere, a cutting between places. The progress of the car was the only important thing, not that of walkers, of kite-flyers, of lovers or of children. Road protesters stood in front of bulldozers to stop it.