I only made my first visit to Troy Bar fairly recently but it's already become a Friday night regular, and I feel like I've wasted a lot of nights not being here. Caribbean food, 4 Red Stripe for a tenner, an incredible house jazz band and as good an atmosphere as you'll find in the city.

Home to all the toys you'd probably forgotten about.

Home to hundreds of stray cats and dogs. 

I grew up in the countryside, and if you're ever in need some instant escape from the city, this place is like a time warp. It's a huge space full of over grown mausoleums and graves, feels like a movie set. They also do tours.

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.