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.

The fantastical shop front for the children’s literacy charity, the Ministry of Stories – which offers one-to-one writing tuition for local kids. The shop sells ‘Bespoke and Everyday Items for the Living, Dead and Undead’, including Thickest Human Snot, Compacted Earwax, and Tinned Fear. (And all their products make perfect presents for humans.) All proceeds go to the charity.

A great place to wander get lost and and escape the city.

Not the most exciting place inside, but a lovely rooftop area which not all that many people seem to know about, 2 mins walk from Old St station. If it's packed then The Red Lion is just up the road.

London is so vast I end up spending hours travelling on trains. They are by far the best way to travel around on and are always full of weird and wonderful characters.