"Gor Blimey guv'ner...you'r having a... " a London Travel Page by sourbugger

It has been a source of some pride that i was the No1 writer on VT for London for quite a while, before the estimable sue stone took over.

The job offers have however failed to flood in...so back to the normal introduction

There are few people in life who have lived in Catford, South London who actually moved to place that was worse - in England.

I spent 18 months in this depressing place, but it did give me the opportunity to jump onto the train on many a weekend and explore London.

Twelve years on I must have visited London countless times, and in writing these pages it has been a bit of trip down memory lane for me remembering some good experiences as well as few more forgettable ones.

I've purposely tried to include tips that are not too obvious - everyone has their 'hitlist' of things to see befoe they come and will generally stick to it. All the places I have mentioned I have personally visited at some time or another.

With London not being a city at all, but rather a collection of villages that have become mushed together, one of the best ways of exploring the areas beyond the circle line is to jump an any bus at random on a Sunday and just see where it takes you. Have a wander and jump on another. I think this is possibly one on the purest forms of travel and it means you can get a feel for the disparate neighbourhoods. This is especially true of North London with the rich variety of cultures from the Greeks and Turks, the Jews of Golders Green, The artsy crowd of Hampstead to the Irish of Kilburn to name just a few.

Some of the greatest places on earth I used to know are no more.

It is an absolute disgrace that London Pub owners don't know when they have got it right.

The Sun Inn in Conduit street used to be a Mecca for real-ale drinkers (if that is the right word to use, when Muslims are supposed to be teetotal), with up to 40 real ales available. It is now a dog's breakfast of some plastic paddy outfit serving the same vomit inducing lager as everywhere else.

The Fox and Furkin in South London used to be the business, with its own microbrewery and friday evening music that brought the house down. I remember once, an Australian guitarist who played there went outside to see how far his new-fangled radio mike would work. He jumped on a bus, not realising it was out of service - and ended up in Clapham. He had to get a taxi back. He then re-entered the pub playing the end of the same song he left with !

Now it's still got the same name, but with ropey beer, ropey fittings and ropey barmaids - what a shame.