"Oh I could get used to this" she says, spray can rattling in her pocket. It's raining, but not much. I get to post my library books back en route. He's done the template. Says he'll tweet it. "That's not the point" she says. "People are supposed to discover them". It's midnight but it's never very quiet round our neighbourhood. But lots of strange things happen too. We're banking on being just another couple of people doing strange things which everyone ignores. We find a nice spot round the corner of the library. Between the curb and the traffic calming island. She bobs down. I pretend to be doing something with the bike and it's done. We walk off quickly but can't resist a Lot's wife style glimpse back over our shoulders. "It glows in the neon!" she cries. We high five. A couple of crazy 40 something mums in a soggy deserted Hackney street at midnight on a Wednesday in December. Gold paint on our fingers. And the mystery of the waiting time marked by stars in our hearts,
Great idea - do you think spray painting the pavement could catch on in a village? I worry there are too many curtain twitchers!
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