Being from good Bethnal Green stock, I never dreamt I’d end up living in South East London. Folk in Bermondsey and Deptford had vestigial tails, thick webbed toes, and thumbs that had evolved specially to fit into belt-hooks. They had no written language, but thirty-seven different words for lock-up. They had the pinched, angry faces of Millwall supporters, not the dimpled cheeks and guileless smiles of Orient fans. As for Greenwich, with its palaces and parks – clearly, that wasn’t for the likes of us. And then we discovered what having South Eastern Trains going furtively about their murky business directly behind the kitchen wall at ten-minute off-peak intervals can do to house prices.