23.

The distinctive curly railings of Kings Hall Leisure Centre - "A Better facility" so the marketing scam goes. Ha. At least today the blood curdling smell of drains wasn't too prominent. A friend has visited the newly reopened aquatic centre at the Olympic Park and reported several Hackney mums looking pretty pleased that they've upgraded their weekly swimming experience so drastically.

But even with the smell, the grime, the useless admin regime, the booking system from hell and the general air of dilapidation I wouldn't swap Kings Hall for Olympic Aquatics for one reason only: the genius swimming instructors.  Friendly, kind, encouraging, good at what they do and all round Good Eggs. 

Even more depressing, then, to hear that 'Better', in their wisdom, have increased their work hours considerably without increasing their pay. Time for a stroppy email I think. It won't be my first. I probably should have left my heart on the  inside. 

20. 21. 22.

Oh yes a triple cheater day! And on a Sunday when I'm sposed to be having a rest day anyway! (Maybe someone cld explain why in Lent you don't count Sundays. And is it true then that you don't have to keep up your Heart discipline/giving up chocolate/eschewing social media for those Sundays?? Or is this Not In The Spirit of Lent?).

First up I left one at The Manse. To brighten up the Lent of the minister and her husband. But I noticed that someone else had got there before me! Ms Showalter perhaps? Or Ms Lawrence? Nice crocheted heart though. And from the peaceable yarn army it seems. Ms Showalter then. 

Then on to leave one on the Gold Door. Or Number 33 as its also known. It's seen some action that gold door. And inside that door today I was privileged to receive a long hug from a beautiful woman who immediately made me cry as I thought back to some of that action. Good to catch up with friends old and new. 

And finally I stuck another on the Olympic apple trees having noticed that my previous one has been removed. It's a double triple cheater day today. 

But I quite like the door thing. Nearly left one on both Honey's and Hugh's doors today. Neighbours of mine who I hardly know. But I don't want to freak them out. I'll have to contemplate this possibility closer I think.   

19.

Oh the pictures are so much better in the day!! 

Another snatched one to catch up. I couldn't resist leaving another one on the Round Chapel railings. I noticed that the other's finally gone so the place just seemed a bit bare somehow. 

I think I'm going to have to watch I don't just put them in places I feel warm towards. Surely the whole point is to bring a bit of light and life into some dark holes?? 

Perhaps it feels like there are less dark holes around in Hackney these days? Maybe they're just better hidden? 

18.

Got to get back on track. Needed to do 2 yesterday but got to 10.30pm and finding it was a bit frosty I decided I couldn't be bothered to go out. Just plain laziness and wilful neglect of my Lenten discipline. The same night I found that my friend, who'd given up do social media for lent, had posted something on Face book. It's hard this regular commitment,  this daily discipline. Even when it's something so easy. Maybe I should be doing something like #EndHungerFast?

So this one had yo wait fir the cycle to work. It's outside the local health centre which has seen both sad and glad moments of my life. Babies born. Miscarriages recorded. Friends being treated for terrible diseases. Jabs done for big adventures. It's a great Doctors' surgery and I think I feel especially connected to it having bought our house from one of the Partners there. Ugly building though. 

17.

Yay another one on the school - this time on the front gate. The last is still there too. Feels like there's a few in the neighbourhood now. 

Sad that R hasn't managed to leave some hearts round Hackney - it's so much nicer to do it all with a partner in crime. But I think she just has taken too much on this term and this is one too many things.  We missed her at our sporadic 'mums night' meet up tonight - at the very wonderful Pecado tapas bar on Homerton High street. Great food, great company, great prices. Yum. 

Still playing catch up with the hearts. I'm one day out. Not easy this keeping up an every day discipline. Two tomorrow maybe. But I'm at work and out of Hackney. Should I leave one somewhere in Euston?? Dilemma! 

16.

A little cheat as I try to catch up with a fun-filled and full-on but not heart-filled weekend! We took the Clapton Park Sunday school down to the wilderness of the marshes for our Lent Adventure and thought about those Hebrews in the desert and the manna and quail. Then we ended up at the 'stone circle' and thought about Moses receiving the 10 commandments - boiling it all down (in true Chris Lawrence style!) to "Love God; love each other; God loves us". We drew chalk hearts on the stones; didn't break any bones jumping off them and everyone got a little crochet heart - to take home or tie to a tree. 

So this was my number 16 heart. 

15.

The furthest afield so far. But still Hackney so I think it counts. We were at the very lovely Eastern Curve Garden in Dalston. Nestled between high rise flats and offices and in an otherwise, by turns, totally derelict or sterile urban landscape. Built by and cared for by an eclectic community it is a real haven - with rambling overgrown wild parts and tidy ordered raised beds filled with herbs and flowers. 

But the best things, for me, are still built things: a warm greenhouse using ancient walls of some factory or other, a small squat pizza oven, a lean too full if sofas and home made (by kids I would wager!) and the piece de resistance: an enormously light instsllation in the shape of a greenhouse. It's a work of art made beautiful by black card, coloured tissue paper and disco balls. 

Lovely to see friends old and new and be able to order pale ale and coffee and homemade lemonade at the bar - perfect. 

14.

This one us outside that marvellous institution Chats Palace. Every now and then N and I go dancing there - learning swing dance and lindy hop. It's hard going as we're sporadic attendees - easily forgetting everything between visits. But as long as I can let go of my desire to be Good and recognised as such we usually have a good time. 

An added delight tonight was to find on the walls Bobby Bakers pictures of her more than two years in a psychiatric unit in Clerkenwell. I first saw them at Greenbelt and loved the fact I was able to 'earn' a print of hers at the festival. N hates it but it hangs in our kitchen never the less: a testament to the fragility and resilience of the human condition. 

Which reminds me - I should leave another at the Homerton somewhere. 

13.

Didn't really want to go out tonight. I was tired. It got a bit late. It's got colder again. I couldn't think of somewhere within one block that I hadn't already left one!

I toyed with leaving it with the cheque in the bottle for John the milkman. But I chickened out. I have only met the poor guy about twice in the six years he's been leaving pintas on th doorstep!

But then I thought I could leave another on a bike rack, just outside the curious but lovely London Borough of Jam. The one outside the Elderfield is still there so I'm hoping for some more bike rack luck. Though I guess if people are taking the others that are missing home to cherish that would not be All Bad. Doubt it though. 

I got all excited about the next location and it felt easier to pop out into the dark and cold. 

12.

Other one outside school is already gone. 

Pesky kids or diligent school keeper?? Today I put a new one in a place a bit less conspicuous. 

I like to think people I know might spot them. Their kids too. My kids... That they might feel that a little ray of sunshine has crossed the neighbourhood and that their mum's had something to do with it.

R is not waving, but drowning. Not made any, not placed many... I want to encourage her but not to add pressure in case she falls off the edge. Even I am surprised how difficult it is to keep up with this daily thing.. especially when there are no more hearts in the cupboard. I did a bit of a session earlier and made three, but that won't keep me going until the end of the week. I was going to do some more tonight but suddenly it's half eleven and I'm passed my creative window. Maybe tomorrow. I think I'm going to make that my mantra for life I say it so often...

11.

Outside the boarded up/sold out police station. 

I never did find out why they closed it down. The Hackney central police station?? The nearest one is Stoke Newington which must be about 250 000 people away. Was it all because of the pernicious, all pervading cuts? Or is that easy criticism of an anti Thatcherite?

Anyway, I took a moment to fix it up in between swimming lessons at the wonderful/dreadful Kings Hall across the road. And felt quite pleased I would see it on my way back from work as it's on my route. 

Not sure that's really the point of all this... self gratification and self congratulation in Lent, I ask you?!

10.

Outside the church community house on Median Road to bring a small cheer to the wonderful J and V as they mourn the loss of their iPad. Some swine swiped it today from the kitchen in the hall while we were worshipping next door in the chapel room. 

It sort of goes with the territory - as you make yourself and your stuff vulnerable being open to 'community' in its widest sense. But a bit galling that its therefore the ones putting themselves out more than most who are the most vulnerable (see Post Easter Post from the Lent posts from last year). 

9.

Trying to catch up a bit. It seems amazing to me how easy it is not to have time/find the moment/remember to do such a simple quick thing every day. It's partly that I  am trying for daylight. Which means schlepping round with kids in tow or doing it at work. And fur the moment I am feeling this is a Hackney Heart Lenten Adventure. 

This one was destined for M and B's new front door for Friday - the day they exchanged contracts - ever since I took home her discarded art from crafty ladeez last month! But the wonderful Street Child World Cup Ceilidh took over and I had to settle for popping it over on my bike on Saturday - seeing M and her kids coming away from the house on my way there! 

It was nice to go over a swig prosecco out if plastic cups with them and other friends tonight. A bit of a celebration - it's a wonderful space and they will do a lot of fun things with it. But right now they are feeling sad at having to leave their old place and a bit daunted by all the work ahead of them. 

8.

So, this one is on the Homerton Hospital back gate. And its for K. 

I've been thinking a lot today about him: a little boy - a not so little boy really. A boy who arrived in the world so quickly his mum didn't even have time to get her trousers off (literally!) let alone get to hospital. Not that they'd planned to be in hospital. A calm home birth in a pool at home had been the plan. K scuppered that by arriving in a rush, impatient for life and wanting to dictate the pace of things from the word go. It suited his mum who never really liked hospitals though she'd had to go to the Homerton after her first born for a bit of stitching back together. And she'd graciously come with me after I 'miscarried' my second. 

She had to spend a lot of time not long after that at that hospital, and at Barts. Only 6 short months after K arrived so abruptly she was getting chemo for stomach cancer. Blood tests and scans and consultations dominated her life for a while. Then she went off and left us. And though he was too small to know it, it was probably K who missed her the most. 

He is one of the funniest, sweetest, smartest kids I know but sometimes a dark mood descends and for a time things are all wrong and life is hard - for him and for those who love and care for him. I got a text today from his new mum. The brilliant, beautiful, gutsy lady who took on his dad and K and his big sister. Asking me to pray for K as he seemed to be lost in a black place. 

Thankfully when I was in touch later she said it had lifted quickly and he'd had an OK day. But it's a trial for all of them. And difficult to fathom. The family are off to live in New York City soon. A new adventure in faith and family life. She wondered, with a laugh, if what happened today meant she should pray every day. I thought it could be a good Lenten discipline. I seem to be notching them up. 

7.

Oops another left when its too dark to photograph. It is also a bit weirder going out at night to do these things. I feel much more self conscious and a bit vulnerable doing it on my own in a way I don't experience at Advent doing it with R. Maybe that's fitting for Lent. It seems to have to be a more solitary pursuit. 

Thought I'd convince her to come out with me tonight - a week on from Ash Wednesday. But she's not answering her phone. So I left it at her school this time - wonder how long it'll take her to notice! 

6.

Popped this one on the school fence. Aha! The school keepers won't even spot it! I like the 'tagging' of places near and dear to me. The pub, the church, the school (in that order!). 

I walked back with a friend who was due to go to an 'immersive' theatre performance tonight. 'Sounds scary' I said. You bet! was the reply. I mused that  though I thought worship should involve your whole being in order for you to fully experience it, and that theatre of this type must be profound for the same reason, I reckoned that most people just want to sit and spectate. And go home without anyone engaging with them! Surely that's why the Catholics and Cathedrals continue to increase their worshipping numbers? When I happened across Tino Sehgal's 'live' and interactive art piece in the Tate's Turbine Hall a year ago I had a similar experience. I did sort of love being 'part' of the art work but mostly I couldn't shake the extreme discomfort of not knowing what was going to happen next and whether I would have to do something which would make me feel even more uncomfortable. I wasn't alone http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/art/art-reviews/9421678/Tino-Sehgal-Turbine-Hall-Tate-Modern-review.html

I still get pretty excited by it at church though. And this year the Lent adventure will take place in gardens or on the marshes with the aim of bringing the kids to the wilderness rather than talking about it abstractly in a church hall. Can't wait. 

5.

Must get into the groove of doing this in the day time. But it was nice to do it with Eldest tonight. She was a bit perturbed by the whole stopping to photograph malarkey, but there weren't many people around and she got over it. We left it on the entrance railings of the local old folks home. Right next to the site where last Easter's yarn bomb lasted a good 5 minutes before being dismantled by someone. I'll be interested to see if a slightly less showy splash of colour lasts any longer.

I was in school today too, doing some reading with the ebullient Mehmetcan, and I thought I might try and give the school keepers a run for their money again this year with a few hearts here and there. But I have also been enjoying leaving them outside. They seem to be an outside thing, these indestructible shapes of love. I hope eventually they might be adopted by people who like to look at them. I'd hate to think I was adding to our spiral into climate change chaos by 'recycling' old plastic bags into something which will last for 1000 years!

R says she's failed in her mission to drop hers anywhere yet... must get a coffee with her and sort her out!

4.

 The prospect of a whole Saturday spent in church, especially when it's another glorious day of sunshine and azure skies, is not one I was relishing. The Clapton Park 'away day at home' is something of an institution dreamt up several years ago after we'd had such fun on our annual church holiday together. We couldn't really justify going away again, but surely setting aside a day a year 'at home' would be another great excuse for some food, frolics and fascinating conversation?

That was the idea, and still is. But never the less each time it comes around I have a terribly bad habit of dreading it. This isn't helped by the fact that somehow it gets longer every year, roughly coinciding with my increasing busyness. I also dread the cajoling that I am going to have to do to get the kids to engage, so it was with some surprise that around 15 minutes before it officially started I turned to N and said 'you do realise all our kids have already left for church?'! Possibly this had more to do with the lure of croissants and a second breakfast rather than any innate spirituality, but I still found it pretty impressive. Later on I learned that they had even been roped into helping set chairs and tables out and generally make themselves useful.

Anyway to cut a long story short I had a lovely day. A bit of adult only time, full of free wheeling philosophical conversation; a bit of craftiness (see below a close up of a rather lovely lent installation which will hang in the lobby for the season.. a reflection on temptations and wilderness); a bit of sunshine and discovery with a 4 year old and 7 year old on a 'street retreat'; shared food and the craziness of a Clapton Park cabaret to follow. All good. And to top it all Rose came by. Rose has been in hospital since well before Christmas, a straight forward infection in her leg transferring to a rather scary heart infection and surgery. She's been telling the Doctors since the beginning of January that she was going to get to the church away day. So they let her out for the afternoon and in she came, leaning on Pete, looking a bit frail, a bit thin, and a bit unsteady, but steely with determination. We formed an impromptu tunnel of arms held high and they both walked down it, her wanting to hug everyone in it. Lost for words, and teary-eyed, she sat down at the little comfy chair we'd prepared, and though it might have worn her out physically you could see that it probably did her more good spiritually and emotionally than any amount of medication in the Homerton. They are good people, these Clapton Park people. And though I am a grumpy and complaining sometimes I was reminded just how good it is to be part of this community. This big alternative family. 

3.

How lovely it is to have sunshine and blue skies after what feels like months and months of rain. I know we've had it easy in London but even here the drudgery of grey skies and dampness has really worn me down. I must remind myself it's bound to be a blip because otherwise the snow/rain/sleet/hail we often have in March/April is just too depressing, but at least the sun is heeeeeere and it's warm and lovely.

I decided that I really must drop my hearts in the day time. They need day light to be captured properly. Though I am still in two minds about photographing. And blogging. A friend has given up social media for Lent. I found it shocking to hear that. Partly because she's a commensurate social media type, and I am always so impressed with people giving stuff up for Lent which is going to be actually painful for them. And partly because she's about the only person, bar my sister, who reads any of these ramblings.

Someone at work, when I told her about this project, said 'Who reads the blog?'. And I had to admit: not anyone really. My mum does when she can navigate her way to it. R does when I send her a link. A couple of others may read one post I stick up on Facebook. But that's about it. I reassured her that I didn't mind that and it wasn't the point. And on one hand I do think that. I treat it a bit more like a journal than a magazine article. But on the other hand, and I hate to admit this, I have a part of me which yearns for fame. Not celebrity. But to be known. To be noticed and taken seriously. To be an expert at something. Which is strange as I've always been an 'all rounder'. Jackofalltrades. Master of None. And I don't like it about myself. But in this world of social media pretty much anyone can make a mark for themselves, out there. But every time I spend more than a couple of hours in front of a blog or FB or twitter etc I get so wound up: by the time I've spent, by the lack of productivity, by the feeling of being sucked into myriad different dead ends of information. Maybe everyone who wants to be famous also wants it instantly and without the hard work attached. Mmmm even more worrying.

This one is on the railings of our church steps. The Round Chapel is our community of faith and home to an amazing bunch of people. When I left this I was slightly dreading having to spend a whole Saturday (10.30am-7.30pm!!) for a Lent 'away day'. It certainly felt like it was going to be a Lenten discipline. But I'm writing this on Saturday evening and really it's been an extremely life affirming, inspiring, laughter fuelled, spiritually engaging event and I am eating humble pie.

2.

Never have a bath before your street art has been placed. Otherwise you have to go out in pyjamas, and no matter how big a coat you wear, no matter how cool your suede boots are, you are still in pyjamas. And everyone knows. Not that many blink an eyelid round here. I've seen mums in the school playground in pyjamas. In fact since the invention of that weird and wonderful body suit for grown-ups we all know and love as the 'onesie' I've seen grown men, hard nut-smoking-baseball-hat-wearing-men, wearing pyjamas in broad daylight on these streets. And don't try to tell me they aren't pyjamas. They're pyjamas.

But, still, I was embarrassed and though I headed to the pub on the corner way after what in my day would be closing time, it was still heaving. Please no one come out and catch me. I hung one on the bike rack outside. Two guys came out just as I discovered my bit of wood to tie it on was not long enough. I didn't look up. Or connect with them in any way. I just carried on, fully engrossed in fitting a heart to the bike rack. At midnight. In my pyjamas. I do this everyday. It's all totally normal.

This being Hackney, of course, they totally ignored me too. All totally normal. I remember a friend of mine once saying it was the only place in the country you could go to an Ash Wednesday service and leave without needing to wipe off your ash mark. He reckoned it was because there were so many more much weirder 'looks' out there. In retrospect I think the fact that he was black probably helped too.

Oh and then to photograph or not to photograph. I've always really resisted that sense that if you haven't photographed an event you feel as though it didn't really happen. And especially in this social media age I have been skeptical of people needing to photograph/locate/tweet/update every damn thing they do, as though nothing has any agency unless recorded. Yet there's my heart. And there's my phone. And I can't escape the fact that I want to record it. But it's dark and iphones are crap in the dark. Good job it's still there the next day! But it is something I am reflecting on... how would the daily discipline differ if  I didn't photograph it? Would I dare to leave them in riskier places? Mind you, outside a pub at midnight in Hackney in your PJs seems pretty risky to me!

1.

We have a nice Lenten discipline planned - to leave a homemade heart each day on a shop, on a door, on a lamppost. R and I even managed to meet tonight to do it together - a first for Lent I think. The one on the deli's already gone but the one at the Kurdish corner shop is still swinging by the tomatoes. 

I've been angsting about whether to blog it not and briefly thought I might just Instagram it but I've bottled out. It's too much like twitter for me. I feel old and out of touch just admitting this but it overwhelms me. All those people. All those (mostly rubbish) pictures. All those hash tags. I thinking I'm in a writing phase too. Feeling a bit weird and out of sorts and maybe needing to process stuff. So predictable, pedestrian blogging it is. 

We managed a nice little Ash Wednesday service with the kids. But I think I have to work on them. The ashing is lost rather if half the participants don't want to be ashed! And next time I'm gonna move the cream carpet.