An Amazonian blend of plants and vines spill from it's interiors, complimenting the concrete architecture that surrounds it. A nod towards films such as Logan's Run, the conservatory forms an almost utopian sci-fi environment.

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.

Favourite walk at night, especially in the summer.  Quite dramatic, very romantic. 

On a hot day there is nothing better to do in London then go for a swim in the Heath ponds. You get completely transported you out of the city as Hampstead feels like being in the countryside except you're in central London?!

 Great sourdough bread, beautiful pastries and Roman-style pizza slices.