Go to God’s Own Junkyard in Walthamstow. It’s a warehouse full of vintage neon signs. It’s run by the family of a man who built signs for movies. The place glows pink, blue, and electric yellow.
It’s only open Friday through Monday. You have a narrow window. Go on Monday afternoon when the light hits the signs just right. You’ll take photos that look like a dream. You’ll buy a postcard of a giant martini glass.
So, don’t let Monday win. London is a glorious, ridiculous, surprising beast. It hands you a better day if you just step outside. Go find a whale skeleton. Eat the green liquor. Ride the mail train. You’ve got this. Monday is actually the best day of the week. Shh. Don’t tell anyone.
