Damn it was hot. It was a sticky Sunday summer morning in Hackney. The birds had long since given up flying in the polluted soup that surrounded them and had taken to wheezing lazily in the trees. Sweat clung to the skin and the latest iteration of hipsters clung, exhausted and sticky, to their frappe lattes. Various cafes had flouted council jobsworths and put out cheap plastic chairs and cheap plastic tables onto the already crowded pavement for who ever found peace sitting in the street with buses and trucks thundering by.