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.

An intimate live music venue in Dalston with lots of underground and experimental music you won't find anywhere else in London.

In terms of materials and form, these galleries offer so much. On an abstract and typographic level, so useful. This is a section of an altar frieze, from the Eye Temple at Tell Brak (N.E. Syria), dated 3300–3000BC. The Egyptian rooms take the tourist weight; these spaces are much quieter and amenable time spent drawing and thinking.

It's a members-only library but you might be granted access with a research request. The writer's room is great but there's a few special, hidden corners among the bookshelves to tuck yourself away in.

Half a mile from Markfield Park down the River Lee is Springfield Park. The park rises steeply up from the river and has an amazing array of tree species making it beautiful in all seasons. At the brim of the hill there is a line of park benches each one surrounded by box hedge offering a private view across the Lee Valley, Walthamstow and beyond. The park warden was nice enough to give me a chestnut log a couple of years ago from which I carved a bench and two stools.