Leaves drifted from the trees, and grey clouds gathered overhead  as an unusual vehicle made its way into Stationers Park in Crouch End, last week. The parents and toddlers queuing for oatmilk cappuccinos and plum and almond cakes at the park’s kiosk had never seen anything quite like it.

The ‘pedi-succah’ – cycle at the front, adapted tuk-tuk at the back -  was there for me and one other Jewish local, giving us a chance to celebrate Succot almost on our doorsteps. Our local Chabad representative, the ever energetic and popular Rabbi Boruch Altein, accompanied by three of his small children, was armed with hand sanitiser and an encouraging smile, urging us to participate as fully as possible in the festival.

It felt quite incongruous - the small park is usually the least Jewish of settings, more used to hosting carol services and Easter egg hunts. But as I awaited the pedi-succah’s arrival, I noticed a group of Strictly Orthodox men, and their kippah-wearing crowd of children. They were not there for the pedi-succah, however, but the excellent playground facilities.

Chabad has unleashed a fleet of pedi-succahs around the world for Succot. The Crouch End version was pedalled by Zoltan, who moved to London from Hungary eight years ago. He usually transports cargo on his pedi-van, and had never heard of Succot before he was approached by Rabbi Altein to transform it into a pedi-Succah. The result -  with yellow-and-black striped furry seats, and a bamboo schach -  was eye-catching and comfortable, with individually wrapped snacks for visitors, and copies of the Crouch End art calendar, created by Rabbi Altein and his wife Batsheva, from artworks by local Jewish residents.

 “It’s a beautiful festival,” said Zoltan, although the pedi-succah needed the odd push as it tackled Crouch End’s hilly streets. It has visited all the local parks, and had come to Stationer's Park from the neighbourhood's main shopping street, the Broadway.

It was a cheering way of celebrating the chag, and, surrounded by nature it felt only slightly embarrassing to be waving the lulav in public -  up to the grey sky, down to the muddy grass, from the weeping willow on the left to the waterfall on the right. Even in a pandemic, the etrog and myrtle smell sweet.  I would have liked to have seen Rabbi Altein’s encounter with the Orthodox men in the playground as he and Zoltan headed uphill. But the heavens opened, the rain fell, and I ran for home.