The Lambeth Walk is not as billed in the song. Quite a bleak but somehow beautiful mishmash of architectural accident–or–design; a legacy of stray WWII bombs intended for more auspicious near-at-hand targets, such as the Houses of Parliament. I study sculpture here each Monday; a lovely workshop inside. The exterior features one of only a few examples of an outside pulpit, apparently for the minister to take his message direct to the shoppers, in the Walk's heyday.

Whipps Cross flats next to Hollow Pond boating lake is where I run. A perfect antidote to the chaos in the city.

Stationery, homewares and a few clothes. All simple classics.

The oldest public art gallery in London also is my local gallery in my neighbourhood. Opposite to the Dulwich Park where I walked with my puppy regularly. They have great collections of Dutch paintings as well. My husband found the original Dutch painting of the print at his home he was growing up with.

This is the most genuine and unpretentious pub I have visited in London. The Palm Tree is on the east London canal outside of Victoria Park. You won't find it unless you know it's there. (And now you know!)