Classic, wood-panelled boozer with banquettes and bar stools, plus a pool table. Situated close to Goldsmiths, University of London. Vibe: Art School meets Football Fan meets Mark E Smith.

An unassuming glass door on an otherwise plain facade hides a cavernous space, with high ceilings and huge sliding partitioned walls producing excellent exhibitions in a space you'll want to go back to.

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.

I felt in love with the giant glasshouse, it's a great place to draw.

The walk along the South Bank from Westminster to Tower Bridge will take you past a plethora or interesting sights and cultural hotspots. There's always something interesting going on too.