‘Big stupid grins’ Imagine this. You drip out of Dalston Junction station, London thumping in the primal roar of a heat wave. Everywhere, beer is sloshing, noses are pink, and people are actually smiling. Across the road, you spy a winking wine bar and an antique shop-cum-brunch-spot, but you turn and, on the corner, an old boozer holds itself grandly, ...