I’m not sure what I like best about this deli: the speck which was so good that I ‘accidentally’ ate the whole package of it before I got home, or the fact the staff are always so friendly even when I ask for my order in my terribly rusty Italian.

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.

London institution, a magical place to have tea and cake and a perfect spot to watch London Soho life unfold before your eyes. The quality is always superb, the staff are friendly and human and the landladies Michelle and Tanya are part of what make this place and London so magical. A little gem that is a must on anyone's visit to London.

A beautiful old school bookshop, floor to ceiling photo books. Heaven.

I grew up in the countryside, and if you're ever in need some instant escape from the city, this place is like a time warp. It's a huge space full of over grown mausoleums and graves, feels like a movie set. They also do tours.