The Nightingale is the antithesis of the hundreds of soulless gastropubs that a lot of decent pubs have recently become and remains everything a proper pub should be. Britain's pubs haven't had it easy lately. The smoking ban and the general effects of the recession have hammered the industry hard. The Nightingale continues to be what it has always been, a proper pub at the heart of the local community. Its annual charity walk has raised nearly £500,000 for good causes in over 30 years and it seems determined to do the things a pub should do and do them properly. Once inside you feel like you could be in a country pub instead of in the middle of South London. There's no jukebox and the TV is hardly ever on, but there’s a great atmosphere with a good set of locals and good drink and food. Bliss.

A winding side street that links hectic Oxford Street and Tottenham Court Road, Hanway Street, with its odd mix of old-style Spanish flamenco bars and second-hand vinyl stores, is a bit of an anomaly. I’ll be surprised if they all withstand the Tottenham Court Road redevelopment but I hope they do.

Good, progressive, solid, forward-thinking place. And run by the warmest, most intelligent and inspiring people to be around. Always a humble, fulfilled visit. And whilst in the area, best to visit next door to Hannah Barry's gallery for more wonderful work.

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.