At the end of the Victoria line at the Walthomstow station, and then a 15 minute walk through some suburban streets with some lefts and at other times rights is an industrial estate. Through the gate and buried at the very end of the units where you are convinced you are lost and doubting it's existence at all is God's Own Junkyard. It's a worthy pilgrimage and actually sort of where you expect God would put a junkyard. The warehouse is a monument to neon and the life works of the late Mr Neon, Chris Bracey. It's littered to the rooftop with cables, plug sockets and choice words with neon epigrams, the whole collection is stacked, I suppose how a junkyard of the sort would be. Full of sex, religion, americana, sci-fi and nostalgia that all blend together surprisingly well, It's a visual feast that you can take in with a coffee and an open mouth. It is a gem of a place. It is really great.

As preposterous as this sounds I think there are few ills that can’t be cured by sitting lazily on a stack of rugs in Liberty and allowing the patterns to wash over you in a warm, and slightly itchy, haze. If you don’t believe me try it. The second you step off the main shopping area the sound and lights dim, the rugs beg to be touched, and all your worries seem to disappear.

The best seafood restaurant on the South Coast.

I love the George and Dragon Public House. Cluttered deco of silly artifacts and memorabilia and slightly scuzzy around the edges. Great drinking characters, DJs and The White Cubicle gallery in the ladies toilets is difficult to beat.

A charming garden centre with cafe and restaurant, both located in beautiful greenhouses. Well worth a visit at any time of the year.