My favourite local beer garden.

Mini mini mini..delicious steamed milk buns.

It doesn’t happen very often but its one of those things that brings people together. Running to the park or hill with anything you can find that might work as a sledge with a big grin or your face.

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.

Having spent many years studying there, I have a soft spot for Central Saint Martins, which finally closed in September 2011 when the college relocated to Kings Cross. Despite being such a dive, the old building had such history and character and I grew very fond of its tatty charms. As plans for its take over by Foyles bookshop go ahead, I look forward to having a coffee in the new building's cafe when it re-opens.