ON A RECENT OVERCAST morning, I found myself rummaging among roadside weeds and litter. I was hunting for bits of my car’s wing mirror, mangled by nocturnal vandals in our supposedly sleepy market town. A passer-by, hearing my muttered expletives, couldn’t resist noting that nothing of the kind happens where she lives — in Hackney.
She did offer some advice, though. “Smell that bush, it’ll make everything better,” she said, pointing down the street to
