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.

Liberty of London has always been a little bit special to me. Perhaps because my Mother gets disproportionately pleased whenever she sees it and it’s rubbed off just a touch. Every time my we visited Carnaby Street and Liberty’s in the last 15 years I’ve been gleefully regailed with a story involving the 60s when The Beatles were hip and happening Carnaby Place was the place to be. And how we must visit Liberty’s, which has slowly morphed into the epitome of an Oxford Street Christmas for me over the years.

Unfortunately, this has led to every trip to Liberty and Carnaby street regurgitating this story to everyone I visit it with, every single time. Luckily I have patient friends who humour me by feigning interest each time.

And Liberty’s has a special line in flowery material, which they use for collaborations. These are – on the whole – awesome. The Nike trainers are an awesome example of this (though I’m more of a Converse girl, so if they could rustle some up I’d be dead happy).

But er.. I have mixed thoughts on their latest venture with Hello Kitty. I think it might have done the impossible and made it .. okay?

They’re also selling the fabric itself which is a sweet touch. (not convinced I’ll be making a dress for myself out of it though)

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.