I love Polaroids. They seem to make everyone look really pretty and they’ve got that old-fashioned air about them. Oh, and the massive bonus of them developing in a matter of moments before your eyes. So I was pretty bummed when I heard they were ceasing production of the film (but really excited about this.) It’s a pretty big moment in photographic history. So much so that Shake It: An Instant History of the Polaroid, an exhibition showcasing the many uses of the Polaroid, opened at the same time the last batch expired. Nice touch guys, nice touch.

So this morning I trotted on down to Battersea Park, headed for the Pump House Gallery. There was a lake with boats and pedalos. Weirdly there was little demand for the boats. I’d totally have got a pedalo but I was on my own so was concerned about looking like a class A loser.

I can’t work out if the guy in the deck chair has the best or the worst job. He gets to hang around a lake all day doing fuck-all because no-one wants to row row row a boat.

I scoffed at the ice cream van - who wants ice cream at this time of year? Then I saw a very happy woman eating one and ate my words. I would have eaten an ice cream but I only feel like it about ten times a year and this wasn’t one of them.

The park felt very autumnal and I was super happy to be there. I was strolling along with Sufjans Stevens as my soundtrack so I felt like I was in my own little film. Then my headphones fell out and I realised I wasn’t. I was in a park.

These dogs were playing. I wish I’d had a dog then I would have had an excuse to stay all day while it ran around poo-ing and sniffing bottoms.

This is the Pump House Gallery. It’s pretty unassuming. Pushing open the door makes you feel like you’re walking into a stranger’s house uninvited.

Here are some photos of a woman taking photos of herself in a mirror. I’m taking a photo of it and myself in the mirror. COOL, HUH?

There were some model casting Polaroids from Storm. This guy’s pretty hot but he has shit tattoos. There’s nothing worse than shit tattoos. Especially stars.

I love casting Polaroids. They must be so awkward; “Hey, so um yeah just look sultry on that window sill okay?”

I didn’t realise Lindsay Lohan was signed to this agency. Weird.

There were some Polaroids from Found magazine. These were my favourite; I liked the juxtaposition of the two. Maybe one day I’ll piss someone off so much they’ll scribble over my face. And maybe one day I’ll have my very own Bobby. What a stud.

Juergen Teller’s one of my favourite photographers so I was excited to see his Polaroids. They were of Sofia Coppola, but the gallery had spelt her name wrong, which made me think less of them.

I wish I’d taken this so bad. “HELLO DEER!”

White paper was covering many of the exhibits which confused me…

…until I peeled it back like a naughty school girl and realised why. I think it was to shield young eyes but surely kids have seen their mum naked before?

This is cool. But gross. But cool.

The gallery is on four floors and the view from the top floor was lovely. I wish it was my house. My bedroom would be on the top floor and I’d swim in the lake in the summer.

I got lost on the way out of the park but it was fine as I got to stalk this squirrel. I was creeping up to him, about to get a really good shot when some bitch came along with her dog and ruined it.

At first I thought this was modern art about the suffocation of nature and its dependence on humanity to save it. But then I realised it was just a bunch of wrapped up trees.

The exhibition is on until the 13th December at the Pump House Gallery, Battersea Park, SW11.

Borrow a dog and make a day of it.