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.

Whipps Cross flats next to Hollow Pond boating lake is where I run. A perfect antidote to the chaos in the city.

One of my top three Wetherspoons.

For its seasonal changes, the rose garden, the Serpentine, the Serpentine gallery, the Summer pavilions, the café etc.

Appreciate the 'bar hidden away behind a bookcase' thing is pretty naff but the cocktails here are unreal (try the Hot and Cold), and it's inside Milroy's Soho, one of the most legendary spirits stores in the city