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 majority of the shows I tend to go to are in East London so it was refreshing to be invited to a show opening at a gallery in the centre of London and I have to say the caliber of the work is astounding. I don’t think I’ve been to a single on of their shows without being inspired in someway, definitely worth checking out.

A lovely healthy cafe in portobello!

Traditional Punjabi restaurant that has been serving aromatic, spicy dishes since 1972. Bring your own alcohol.

No better breakfast in London, luckily just five minutes from my office.