From the window I can see something on top of the wall. It is small, barrel shaped and brown. It reminds me of a Kiwi fruit. In the garden, I peer up at it. It is a Kiwi fruit, incongruous on a garden wall in south London. I have my camera. I look at the fruit through the lens and see teeth marks. A fox has bitten into it and left it. Maybe the taste was too sharp for his sweet tooth.