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.

By far the best bagels in London, they are open 24 hours and being just down the road from my flat a bit too local. It is run by a man called Mr Sammy, who doesn't muck about with portion size. It is well worth a visit especially for their smoked salmon and cream cheese speciality.

You might think the Tate Britain is the less interesting of the two London outposts: full of crusty oil paintings and pensioners on day-trips, but you’d be wrong. Not only is the building a delicious warren of interconnecting rooms, each more beautiful than the last, but it also houses a collection of pre-Raphelite works that has me in tears of awe every time I swing by.

There's nothing better than hanging up a white sheet and shooting in my Garden when the sun's out. This is where I shoot a substantial amount of my work.

A charming garden centre with cafe and restaurant, both located in beautiful greenhouses. Well worth a visit at any time of the year.