This is homemade, geeky, yellow and knitted: four quick reasons why I love this. I couldn’t make a crochet variety so I went for a knitted pacman (via the fantastic carissaknits). I think he’s lovely.

To start with pattern was a bit of a struggle with terminology I’m not used to like ‘wrap and turn’ but it’s fairly straightforward. I had to enlist Mother-help on picking stitches up. Maybe one day I will master this complex art.

I love lecool and things like it. When you’re in a big city for the first time they’re a lifesaver, and when you’re old and jaded they help you find new things. In my spare time I edit what is essentially a Brighton version, but it seems a much easier task because in what’s still a madly busy little city there’s still less of an obscene choice of things going on. In London, I almost don’t know where to start. (Probably because I’ve lived in one for four years, and one for one month.) It’s nice to feel that someone’s doing the research for me. So yesterday we picked three things of the lecool list and went out on an adventure. At the moment I feel like there’s so much to take it, see and digest and like it all needs eating quickly and immediately. I may become at risk of indigestion. If you’ve got anything you’d recommend seeing or doing let me know.

1. Carousel Art & Craft
2. Angelheaded Hipsters Exhibition at the National Theatre (best Snowball cocktails)
3. Hunter S Thompson at the Friends Films. (We scrapped this exciting sounding venture for a poke around the tiny Curve Exhibition at the Barbican)

Mason and Taylor has reaffirmed my mostly jaded view of East London pubs in one easy go. I’m on a mission to find comfortable, wonderful, homely places that redefine my associations of London (I’ve spent too much time in wetherspoons filled with jostling men in suits, or places that are just a bit run of the mill). This is one of the places that make me realise London has so many ordinary but brilliant spots.

We popped down to the art and craft event downstairs – they hung fabric bunting across the stairs and I was a bit smitten. I may have squeaked in excitement (the craft could have been crap, and I’d still have been happy). It was lovely to poke around. It’s a small but nice space with a mix of knitted bits, feathery things and art, and was lovely to poke around. There were tables of people knitting and chatting whilst people look around their tables. The wrapping paper prints hanging from the ceiling on coat hangers decorated with small people, mixing bowls, and forests made me want to go home and find out how to make my own.

We scrapped the Hunter S Thompson ‘One for the Doctor’ event run by the People’s Picturehouse: a ‘secretive squatty cinema type event’ celebrating Hunter S Thompson, which promised themed cocktails, friendly faces, and a back-to-back projection of a Gonzo Journalist documentary and Fear and Loathing because it went past our bedtime and we’re old like that.

Instead we went to the Barbican which was holding Beat the Champ by Cory Archangel at The Curve Exhibition, a tiny commission which takes you on a journey through different gaming consoles. Essentially it’s loops of bowling games in which the player fails to score, displayed down a giant wall. Surrounded by Nintendo and Atari beeps, it’s nice but feels as though it should be part of a bigger exhibition.

And finally we headed to the official #2 on the list. I can count the number of times I’ve walked along the Southbank on one hand, and the same with the number of people I’ve done it with. I always remember Elika saying it’s one of her favourite spots and I wonder if the blue and white fairy light-lit trees and old Victorian-esque lights will feel any less special when I have walked there more than my hands and feet can count. I hope not.

The Angelheaded Hipsters exhibition has been taking place at the National Gallery. I’ve never been to the National Gallery before. There’s a lot of places I’ve never been, but it’s a lovely building – not so much in the design but in the mood inside. It’s tranquil and kind, and we discovered some of the nicest Snowball cocktails – and after leaving we dashed to a supermarket to buy Avokaat, so I’ll be making those tonight).

Allen Ginsberg’s photos of his friends, ranging from William Burroughs Patti Smith to Andy Warhol (described as ‘hipster Andy Warhol’ it took a second to remember that Warhol wasn’t always a modern art chap) is a step into stories of the past. There’s lots to look at but the younger photos resonate more, and involve you in their stories more. Perhaps because I’m the same age now, but the detail in the descriptions of each person seemed more loving, and the poses of people leaning back from tall buildings or bundled onto a sofa for a quick group shot seemed more natural and somehow, I couldn’t put my finger on, more affectionate. Perhaps because I’m the same age, or perhaps because they were the first photos we came across, but something was lovely about them. Something carefree and young and with so much to happen. And that’s a bit how I feel at the moment.

Cute hand-made decorations. Getting into some Christmas craft after suddenly noticing I’d neglected to do any. Felt’s so fun to make little things out of (see: finger puppets). Spell little words, or make each one with each person’s initial on. Via a pretty obvious tutorial at say yes to hoboken.

Very excited by my Cress Head, I continued to be until it grew and proceeded to smell like pee. It doesn’t make putting the cress in sandwiches too appealing. Now Mr Cress Head is fully dead. He may have fallen out of the window too. Before it was dead, I got it ready to take some photos of the green hair and inadvertently stuck my thumb through its face.

Careful eggshell realignment took place and I had lots of fun (to the extent cress can be) with my E-P1 on full zoom, focusing on the tiny bits of cress hair. They look wonerfully intricate. So, pretend I’m talking in the voice of Jeremy Clarkson: Here’s cress. Up close and personal.

Woo, cress!

The products of yesterday: my frowny egg cress head. He is only small and feeble because the kids needed the big shells. Why does cress smell so bad? It’s stinking my desk out and has been relegated to the windowsill which suits both of us better.