'The day I was mugged'

A year ago, at about eight o'clock in the evening, I left my flat to go and visit my boyfriend. I took my car, a battered 12-year-old Peugeot 205. I pulled over at the end of my road to buy a bottle of wine from the off-licence, on Acre Lane in Brixton, a real hotspot for muggings. I dashed across the road, made my purchase and got back into my car, placing my handbag on the passenger seat.

I noticed a man hanging around on the corner, looking dodgy. He then ran across the road, smashed the passenger window and reached in and grabbed my bag. Furious, I pulled back the bag, thinking, "You're not having that - it's mine." I revved up the engine, making a hell of a noise and I was screaming my head off. Then with his free hand he punched me in the face hard. I let go of the bag and he was gone. I noticed him jumping in a car and he was off.

Immediately after the attack I was really shocked - I couldn't catch my breath. A young man saw the whole thing and he called the police. He calmed me down and re-parked my car for me. He was very kind - he lived above the off-licence and he took me to the wine shop until the police arrived, and gave me a cigarette and a glass of wine.

The police came but I couldn't help them much - I didn't know what he looked like - he was dark-skinned but not black. I couldn't see him because he was wearing a hood and a scarf around his face. The police were good, but there's nothing they could do about it.

When the policeman took my statement, I can't have been very helpful. I was in such a state I could hardly speak let alone think straight.

The attacker hit me in the cheek, which was left bleeding and swollen. It was very sore for a couple of days but nothing was broken. The swelling went down and I had a scab on my face for weeks. I didn't go out for three days, not even to go to buy a roll of loo paper. The day after that, I woke up and said: "I'm fine," and went into work, despite my flatmate telling me not to. I was there for about two hours and I was still so shaken and miserable I had to go home and my face still looked awful.

My friends were very sweet and my parents, who live in the country in Essex, tried to persuade me to go and stay with them, but I didn't. I'm lucky because my friends are great and were a real support. I've lived in London for eight years, all over the place, but I've noticed Brixton has got really bad for street crime. Out of my four friends in the area, three of us have been mugged.

The witness had taken the first three letters on the number plate of the getaway car, and later the police found out the car he had driven away in had been stolen that day and later dumped.

The bag that was taken was a beige suede handbag from Italy - it had been a present and I would not carry anything like that again. I now have an inconspicuous small black bag with a short strap I keep close to my body.

And I've learnt my lesson: I wouldn't put a bag on the passenger seat, either. I don't wear heels out now. I'd feel too vulnerable in them. I wear trainers and carry my heels in a backpack, another bag that doesn't draw attention.

Also now I cycle. With my cycle helmet and backpack, no one ever gives you a second glance. And you can move quickly on a bike.

I've noticed my attitude has really changed since the attack. I am really careful and don't walk anywhere on my own now. I feel safer on my bike, and I'll cycle to the pub and back, even though it's just down the road. I think the attack has made me more aggressive, especially in the months immediately afterwards.

Every time anyone came anywhere near me, I would screech at them. I really overreacted one day when a man tried to grab my arm in the street. I shouted at him to get off and screamed. I was outside a shop so I went inside and the women in the shop were very protective, the man, however, became very angry, and started shouting at me. It was a real scene and I probably could have avoided it if I'd just pulled away from him and carried on walking.

A few weeks after, a man from victim support came round to my house. They had sent a letter explaining he would visit, but I hadn't received it, so when I heard the door knock, I shouted out of the window: "What do you want?" The man explained he was from victim support, and I refused to let him in. I didn't trust he was who he said he was.

A day later the letter arrived. But I think I have calmed down since then."