My favorite museum.

The Lambeth Walk is not as billed in the song. Quite a bleak but somehow beautiful mishmash of architectural accident–or–design; a legacy of stray WWII bombs intended for more auspicious near-at-hand targets, such as the Houses of Parliament. I study sculpture here each Monday; a lovely workshop inside. The exterior features one of only a few examples of an outside pulpit, apparently for the minister to take his message direct to the shoppers, in the Walk's heyday.

I love the George and Dragon Public House. Cluttered deco of silly artifacts and memorabilia and slightly scuzzy around the edges. Great drinking characters, DJs and The White Cubicle gallery in the ladies toilets is difficult to beat.

As preposterous as this sounds I think there are few ills that can’t be cured by sitting lazily on a stack of rugs in Liberty and allowing the patterns to wash over you in a warm, and slightly itchy, haze. If you don’t believe me try it. The second you step off the main shopping area the sound and lights dim, the rugs beg to be touched, and all your worries seem to disappear.

Aside from the fact of the underground being the oldest running railway system in the world, I find the underground just an incredibly strange place. Sometimes it’s like I’ve entered an organised maze and just walk without even thinking. The photo is taken of the floor from one of the trains, it’s normally what you tend you look at when you’re on the train.