It was dark when I got out of the tube today at around 8pm. That was a nasty seasonal shock. And raining – good for parched East London. When I got home, I made the few steps up the front path, sidestepping the humungus weed between the concrete slabs of the path and drive, and I felt something cold and clammy brush, or more accurately, thump, my bare ankle. I whipped round suspiciously and peered down into the dark, and saw the street light glistening on a handsome and good-sized frog or toad. I said “Hello!” in the voice I reserve for animals and babies, and it hopped away into the lavender.