Mr De Mille, I'm ready for my mid-life crisis.

My birthday dawns cold, windy and rainy. This is hardly a surprise; I'm more or less used to 1st-15th and then 17th-31st May being warm and sunny with the bit in between being freezing.

We go out for an East End walk, down to Cable St to have a gander at the mural, then up to Princelet Street to have a look at the old synagogue. It was meant to become a Museum of Immigration but it looks like the money ran out - there's a notice on both the front door and their website saying that they've had to cancel their open days. A pity, as I'd love to poke around in there. One Huguenot residence still open is the oil lamp-lit Dennis Severs house, the ex-home of an eccentric American who did up the dilapidated Georgian house and then charged people to have a look. It's quite fascinating as it's done as if the family and servants have just popped out, with broken tea-cups, un-made beds and half-eaten boiled eggs (actual eggs, not plastic or ceramic) lying around. Instead of telling you not to touch, the guides stand out around telling you not to speak above a whisper. As well as looking, you're supposed to smell and listen to the museum as well. It reminds me of the weird art nouveau house we visited in Brussels, although David thinks it's more like the Jorvik Museum. We also pop into the Up Market, which was the natural successor to Spitalfields market when that was redeveloped, but now it just annoys me. Seeing 80s clothes sold as 'vintage' to people who are aiming to look like Kevin Rowland or Alannah out of the Thompson Twins, and looking at the rows of plaid shirts with pre-rolled sleeves is pretty depressing when you're 37. The tannoy plays Tears for Fears. I don't mind getting old so much, I just object to young people.

Victuals are provided by the Rootmaster and Nude Espresso, and later we go out to meet the gang (well, a gang) at Tay Do for summer rolls and crispy noodles, followed by beer in the Royal Oak.

My best present: a year's supply of chocolate. My worst present (from myself): gym membership.

Mr De Mille, I'm ready for my mid-life crisis.

My birthday dawns cold, windy and rainy. This is hardly a surprise; I'm more or less used to 1st-15th and then 17th-31st May being warm and sunny with the bit in between being freezing.

We go out for an East End walk, down to Cable St to have a gander at the mural, then up to Princelet Street to have a look at the old synagogue. It was meant to become a Museum of Immigration but it looks like the money ran out - there's a notice on both the front door and their website saying that they've had to cancel their open days. A pity, as I'd love to poke around in there. One Huguenot residence still open is the oil lamp-lit Dennis Severs house, the ex-home of an eccentric American who did up the dilapidated Georgian house and then charged people to have a look. It's quite fascinating as it's done as if the family and servants have just popped out, with broken tea-cups, un-made beds and half-eaten boiled eggs (actual eggs, not plastic or ceramic) lying around. Instead of telling you not to touch, the guides stand out around telling you not to speak above a whisper. As well as looking, you're supposed to smell and listen to the museum as well. It reminds me of the weird art nouveau house we visited in Brussels, although David thinks it's more like the Jorvik Museum. We also pop into the Up Market, which was the natural successor to Spitalfields market when that was redeveloped, but now it just annoys me. Seeing 80s clothes sold as 'vintage' to people who are aiming to look like Kevin Rowland or Alannah out of the Thompson Twins, and looking at the rows of plaid shirts with pre-rolled sleeves is pretty depressing when you're 37. The tannoy plays Tears for Fears. I don't mind getting old so much, I just object to young people.

Victuals are provided by the Rootmaster and Nude Espresso, and later we go out to meet the gang (well, a gang) at Tay Do for summer rolls and crispy noodles, followed by beer in the Royal Oak.

My best present: a year's supply of chocolate. My worst present (from myself): gym membership.

Back on the crisps

Walkers World Cup Flavour Challenge

9) Australian kangaroo flavour. Tastes just like BBQ flavour. Dull!

Back on the crisps

Walkers World Cup Flavour Challenge

9) Australian kangaroo flavour. Tastes just like BBQ flavour. Dull!