She nearly got run over trying to take a picture of this one. "There's a car coming!" I yell, trying not to attract too much attention from the Hackney street cleaner team busily sweeping the pavements. Somehow it feels a bit worse to introduce more stuff to clean up when the poor guys are out in subzero temperatures at 11.45pm. If I was a street cleaner, would I want to clean off a gold star in the road? It's not a question I've asked myself many times before. She says "Did you hear that Jim's dad died?" "Yeah." "A crazy neighbour of mine told me once that she believed when someone died a new star appeared in the night sky". I break into a song and dance routine from an Andrew Lloyd Webber musical. She doesn't skip a beat: "I've been thinking that maybe this star tonight is for Jim's dad". Not sure that Jim will ever know that somewhere on a Hackney road there's a gold star to his dad's memory. But I still kinda like it.
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