The Tiger Club invited us along to the launch of their Powder Keg Diplomacy earlier this year, and along to The Lost Society to celebrate and review their re-launch. (Writing for le cool since I moved to London has been ace.) For people with an apathy towards afternoon tea, a love of bunting, and a penchant for mini steak sandwiches and cake.

A few shots from my awful iPhone camera (apologies). It’s an adorable place.

I realised something this week. I haven’t written about my new job yet. It’s now the end of week 5 and today had an amazing revelation.

I’ve worked in Digital PR teams and in a media agency, and now I’m in a creative agency. One thing I love is the people and how human they are. And also that they wear brogues. I work with Jed Hallam, who has a great capacity for wearing stripey shirts, and Graham Drew who has a similar capacity for wearing scarves. As an Art Director I think this is pretty obligatory. Our MD just won the company award for bad fashion. Combined my habit of living in one pair of jeans, I think we make a great team.

Today I got to the end of my notepad. At the back, in week 1, I started a buzzword bingo. And today I realised that I’ve only got one box filled out. And that comes from Tom Park who said described his time as “spare capacity”. And if that’s it for five weeks, I think I’ve landed on my feet.

My god Greenwich is cute. Described as both a must-see for tourists whilst simultaneously slated as a terrible tourist destination by indecisive people, its a beautiful village. I loved the obsession with selling ‘Traditional British Food’. We sweated about gobbling chips and chinese food in the sunshine and followed it up with ice cream, and then attempted to launch our food-filled selves up a hill (this occurred in stages).

We stopped halfway up the hill to the observatory and somewhat famous meantime line. Looking at the pointy towers of canary wharf looks brilliant, and makes you realise how both central and distant you are at once.

Hadn’t done one of these in a while – here’s my July in 60 seconds. In which I learn sewage history, use Tweetdeck in Starbucks, see Burlesque boobs, and go to Shoreditch.

This weekend was Shoreditch Festival. Mysteriously, whilst taking place at Hoxton – a name I associate with the bar & grill – it wasn’t the skinny-trousered meme-fest I was expecting. This may be because I’m a South London snob. It actually reminded me of a very British fete from my childhood, despite the lack of school field.

The weekend threw rain and bright sun at us, and so it was spent jumping under a huge umbrella every ten minutes. Still, stretching along the canal was beautiful. I think the best part was alongside Punch and Judy that ran about, with small children smacking his rear with a baton, was the man dressed as a policeman with ‘Politeman’ on his back. “Go away” he barked at me.

Here’s some photos, though few the actual Festival itself. The canal was too exciting I’m afraid.

A new sort of river boat.