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.

Wood-floored shop with a museum-like vibe selling vintage men's fashions, footwear and accessories.

A Hint of Mint, Taylors Sky, Class Freedom, Horseshoe Ping – amazing names, muscle, speed, beers, the cheap thrill of Greyhound racing at the dog tracks is a London must. It was best experienced at Walthamstow Stadium, an iconic 1930's stadium with a fantastic neon sign that sadly closed for racing in 2008. However fights to save it from demolition and reopen it for racing have been ongoing since then. So please support the campaign 'Save our Stow' and in the meantime head to the dog tracks in Romford, Wimbledon or Crayford.

Quiet outdoor garden with bar and pizza meters away from the busy and vibrant Dalston main roads.

One of the few newsagents in London with the widest selection of specialist international fashion, media, art and design magazines. Just off Portobello Road.