Christmas wasn’t happening. Even though my watch said it was the 25th of December, there was nothing to signify festivity. The pound-a-bowl man on Lea Bridge Road, had his usual colourful jumble of exotic fruits and vegetables laid out in front of him like still-life’s. The dry cleaner was drily cleaning, and the scrawled note on Indiano Pizza’s door declared ‘We not closed’. People were out and about, doing what they normally do in Leyton: carrying bulging Sports Direct bags, waiting at bus stops, smoking roll ups, nursing empty coffee cups.