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scrawny-looking beasts.The worst was early last year when a young adult climbed up the metal fire-escape stairs and decided to sun itself on our first-floor balcony. It had not seen me in the kitchen, so when I sneaked upstairs and peered out through

' guinea pigs and one escaped. Even with neighbours flood-lighting the gardens from their balcony we could not find the dratted animal. All I could hear was snails eating the nasturtiums. I slept fitfully that night. The calling foxes were louder than ever

.I'm surprised, though, to see little sign of wildlife at any of these flower pots - just a lone honeybee and a couple of pigeons.It is only down by the river's edge that I can see what I might call real wildlife in a garden. A tiny concrete balcony

-escape balcony, over the block of back gardens, to see if I can spot any life anywhere. And with perfect timing, announced by a series of metallic ‘tsit tsit tsit’ notes, a small gang of titmice comes bobbing over the hedges and lands in next-door’s cherry tree

. The window could not open, and it puzzled us why this bird should spend so much time trying to get in.If it wasn't downstairs, it was upstairs at the bedroom, where glass doors led out onto a small balcony. Again, it would flutter at the glass, then perch