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.

I try to come every Sunday to wander around this hidden conservatory in my favorite Brutalist estate.

Incredible building centred in the heart of London. Great for exhibitions, David Hockney is currently showing here.

I'm waiting for a vegetarian-friendly event to get the full dining experience, but in the meantime there's wine!

This is my favourite place to have a morning coffee in London. Its real chilled and the music is always perfectly set to welcome the day in, its usually something I have never heard before too. The coffee is good and the tip jar they have is the best tip jar in the world so make sure you bring a bag of pennies. Sit with your sketch book and have a lil think.