Rattus Norvegicus

Strolling along the boulevards of Plumstead, minding my own business and taking my baby daughter for a sleep, I paused by some wasteland to admire the view (I could almost see the back of our house).

I lowered my gaze and made a mental tut noise at the various bits of old junk, rubbish and, oddly, slices of white bread that had been left strewn around this informal wildlife reserve.

Then I saw the rat. Quite a big one, shouldering its way through the undergrowth. It stopped and caught me in its beady gaze before we both ambled off on our own separate ways.