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.

There are not many places in London like it. On a Saturday during market hours it heaves with stalls and visitors for a good mile or two. Great place to pick up some bric-a-brac, genuine oddities and a great bite to eat, or just enjoy the hustle and bustle vibe of the place.

Frank's bar opens on the roof of a multi-storey carpark in Peckham every summer. It's great to go for a drink and get this phenomenal view of London. I love the design of the bar, which is different each year, and the exhibitions are always interesting.

The best place for a glass of wine*. It's the perfect balance – not too formal, not too informal either. Food is consistently good. Lamb's Conduit Street is a little oasis in the midst of Bloomsbury. (*slightly overpriced)

The best Sunday walks.