Well, now I’m swearing in my post titles, I best have something really epic to say. I can’t let on that I’m adding in some text as filler and an excuse to post some really cool photos. That is, at least I think they’re cool. But I would, wouldn’t I? I’ve always been hooked on lights. But I’ll get back to that.

God’s Own Junkyard sounds like something you’d find in America and looks like something that would blow up on TikTok. Its colourful collection of lights is the perfect quirky backdrop for influencers to stand in front of and peddle their slop to an algorithm hungry for your dopamine. I’m pretty sure the place has done the rounds on social media at some point, otherwise I’m not sure how I’d have found out about it and added it to my bucket list all those years ago.

Either way, there it sat until this summer, when I visited Rhea in London for a few days and had to find things to do to entertain myself while she worked. As my train pulled into King’s Cross, I scanned my Google Maps for places that I’d marked for future visits. God’s Own Junkyard stuck out as a lone pin on the far edge of the map, and the moment I saw what it was, I knew I had to go.

Two days later I was in a hangar in Walthamstow, gawking at the immense collection of old neon signs. I knew it had everything I love: lights, colours, and a snack bar, but I didn’t know it was also going to offer me some cheap games on a couple of old pinball machines. I was, and there’s no better way to put it, a pig in shit. These are all passions of mine, passions which I’ve had for as long as I can remember. I hope the expletive is justified. Sorry, dad.

As I wandered between the exhibits and got chatting to the owner, something stirred within me. I reconnected with a passion for lighting that, although never fully abandoned, I think that I have failed to stoke as much as I could. This is what I love and these are my people. For now, I don’t have the time to build an entire world around it like this guy has, but I’ve to embrace it as much as I can.