[T]he Oxford English Dictionary claims that the first use of the word cockney as a reference to native Londoners was in 1521, and since I did The Knowledge I’ve been telling anyone who cares to listen that I’m a cockney, blithely ignoring the fact that I was brought up in a leafy North London suburb.

For to be a cockney you have to have been born within the sound of Bow Bells, and contrary to the widely held belief the bells in question are not from Bow Church in East London, but St Mary-le-Bow on Cheapside in the City of London, and being born in Fitzrovia, I thought, erroneously, I easily came within its audible catchment area.

A church has existed on the site since Saxon times, and the subsequent Norman church was known as St Marie de Arcubus or Le Bow because of the bow arches of stone in its Norman crypt. The current building was built to the designs of Christopher Wren, 1671–1673, with the 223-foot steeple completed 1680. It was considered the second most important church in the City of London after St Paul’s Cathedral, and was one of the first churches to be rebuilt by Wren for this reason.

On 10 May 1941 a German bomb destroyed the Wren church including its bells made famous in the children’s nursery rhyme Oranges and Lemons. Restoration was begun in 1956 and the bells only rang again in 1961 to produce a new generation of cockneys, a full 14 years after my birth.

Now according to research at Lancaster University a cockney accent will soon no longer be the hallmark of Londoners. The distinctive accent now known as Estuary Speak is more likely to be found in the Home Counties of Essex and Hertfordshire. The linguists claim that ever-increasing numbers of people in the capital are speaking Jafaican. The hybrid speech, created by successive waves of immigration is a mixture of cockney, combined with Bangladeshi, African and West Indian.

The London dialect could have disappeared within another generation and cockneys in their 40s will be the last generation to speak like stars from a BBC soap, and now the dwindling ranks of cockney speakers are being asked to record their voices for posterity.

But hope is at hand, the newly built Kings Place Arts Centre near King’s Cross has posted a downloadable recording of Bow Bells on its website so that cockneys that have moved away can still let their children be born within the sound of its famous chimes.

[I] have got worms. OK I know it’s not the sort of thing about my life that you want to read over your morning bowl of cornflakes, but bear with me on this one, while I relate to you the reason I have the little critters.

Working shift work in London throughout most of my life I’ve come to expect to see a fox or two, but in the last couple of years hardly a night goes by without seeing at least two or three.

Foxes moved into urban areas after the First World War due to a change in people’s lifestyles, quickly urbanising and taking advantage of the food and shelter provided in the relatively large gardens, from compost heaps, bird-tables and garden buildings. Foxes are now accustomed to living near to people and successive generations have spread inwards towards the city centre. There are now more opportunities of food and shelter for foxes in towns and cities than in the surrounding countryside. Fox density in urban areas is related to housing type, semis with large gardens are perfect for foxes but Victorian terraces and modern developments are not so favourable.

There are thought to be 10,000 foxes in London and the animals have been spotted in the choir stalls at St Paul’s cathedral and outside No 10 Downing Street. They live in family groups – a dog fox and vixen producing one litter of about four cubs a year. On average, scavenged food forms nearly 40 per cent of their diet, with a large amount of this deliberately put out to attract them. It is commonly, but wrongly believed that urban foxes feed largely on the contents of dustbins which they have raided – these are more often disturbed by cats and dogs.

The number of urban foxes remains about the same despite approximately 60 per cent of the population dying in a year; nearly half of these deaths are due to car accidents, which rather put pay to the fox hunting debate as a means of restricting their numbers. Although their numbers remain the same they have of late become less desensitised to humans, now almost never running away and becoming so bold as to result in the tragic case from East London where two sisters were bitten by a fox in their bedroom.

Foxed are actually quite small and it is extremely rare for a fox to attack a cat or dog, let alone a human, usually preferring to avoid contact. Foxes’ natural prey includes small birds and mammals and they will eat pet rabbits, guinea pigs or chickens, but if they can scavenge rather than risk being injured when pursuing prey they will.

Now in London everybody seems to throw their uneaten food into the street; rich pickings are to be found for our urban canine friends, and local councils are hardly helping by only collecting rubbish only two times a month and actually encouraging residents to store uneaten food for infrequent disposal. Discarded food will attract rats allowing them to breed in larger numbers, so it’s hardly surprising foxes are on the increase in these boroughs, with a plentiful supply of scraps and rodents to eat.

We now come to the rather indelicate subject of my worms, for recently for my birthday I received from my daughter a Wiggly Wiggler wormery, now at the risk of coming over all green I have the perfect solution to composting kitchen waste into rich, dark compost, a valuable resource for my garden. Worm-assisted composting is a wholly natural process and using such “lowly organised creatures”, as Charles Darwin described worms and he should know he studied them for 35 years; I have reduced the risk of encouraging foxes and rodents into my garden while providing myself with hours of entertainment discussing my wormery with anybody who will listen.