Reflections of a stormy petrel

I spent most of the nineties in a quiet working-class district in East London, called Leyton. Today I heard that a car repair shop a few block from my old address, and which I knew very well by sight, had been turning out illegal weapons including somes - like guns disguised as pencils and cigarette lighters - that would look well in a movie. I always did wonder how that shop managed to stay afloat.