THE town is deserted, and a cold wind whips through the empty streets.
An eerie silence fills the air, only broken by the methodical rotating of an advertising billboard and the odd sound of a taxi on its way to its next pick-up.
The many revellers enjoying their Friday night out seem to have long since gone home to their beds, while the remaining few stragglers make a quick stop at a nearby burger van before calling it a night.
The clock tower chimes, a quick glance at its illuminated face shows its 2.30am.
Then one by one they slowly appear. Wrapped head to toe in thick woolly scarves and hats to keep out the November chill, armed with bags of knitting and stitching they quietly begin to get to work under the cover of darkness.
Within minutes the town is filled with splashes of brightly coloured knitting and needlework, railings are swathed in lovingly crafted crocheted patterns, and the once grey and uninspiring bollards are wrapped in tea cosy-like jackets, bearing welcoming phrases like ‘Home sweet home’ and ‘Hello my darling.’
These knitting ninjas are the mysterious Darlington Stitch Bombers and nothing is safe from their nimble fingers.
Colourful bunting soon drapes the outside of the historic Covered Market, decorated bikes are parked in rainbow coloured bike racks, and a knitted train – a tribute to Darlington’s rich railway heritage – adorns the town’s statue of railway pioneer, Joseph Pease.
Even Mr Pease himself is given a new handmade woolly scarf to keep himself warm while he surveys the town’s High Row, as well as a red superhero cape that blows spectacularly in the morning wind.
“Joseph Pease is the hero of Darlington, he needs a superhero cape,” says one of the guerrilla stitchers, whose identity will remain unknown.
“We just wanted to show some love for our town, and if a bit of knitting and stitching can do that then that’s great.”
As the town begins to stir back to life and market traders arrive for the weekly Saturday market, these anonymous crafters have already returned to the secrecy of their homes, leaving just a trail of yarn, thread and mystery in their wake.
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