We both had a visitor in tow tonight. Two curious onlookers. It's been interesting to see, from the few we've had along for the ride, how their attitude differs. From the fella earlier this week who, though he seemed a little nervous, never the less seemed to be rather enjoying the whole affair, to the lovely ladies tonight, one of whom obviously thought we should be being much more bold and paint some stars on the tops of the round, black bollards which creep up the edges of Chatsworth Road. I find myself quite resistant to their suggestions, whatever they are. Wanting to keep control of it. Wanting to be the one to decide where tonight's celestial being will be placed. Somehow wanting to hog the experience. To drink it up for myself as though there's not enough to share. I don't find that very easy to admit. Aaaarrgggh! I'm baring my soul on the internet. Stop it! Anyway, one of them suggested we sing a hosanna chorus after we'd painted it. I think we'll leave her at home next time, though I sort of knew what she meant. There is something deeply uplifting bringing a gold splash of colour to birth in the grot and grime of a Hackney street. Maybe we should develop a little gold star dance. Mind you, the whole photographing of it malarky can turn into just that, with R often finding some extraordinary revelation in the pictures on her new smart phone. Today's random blob of paint which appears in the picture is a dove. Obviously. Which makes the fact that yesterday's star is already covered up by a huge pile of rubbish all the more disheartening...
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