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!)

Great cosy place for anyone in need of cakes and pampering!

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.

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

I didn’t know it existed until I moved to Brixton. Brockwell Park has been a revelation to me, it’s beautiful with many secrets. Check out the outdoor theatre in the summer up by the old house - Midsummer Night’s Dream last year on a midsummer’s night was astoundingly good.