In a world of sprawling Mercato Metropolitanos, Market Halls and Arcade Food Halls, the miniscule Holborn Food Hub is a reminder that food courts come in all shapes and sizes. I'm sure they had very good reasons for filling a space the size of a mobile phone repair shop with fully 3 different food vendors and a ludicrously antisocial arrangement of table and chairs all seemingly piled up on top of each other, as whatever they're doing is working - most days the queue at lunchtime stretches down the street. But we were lucky - and early - enough on a Thursday to bag a small table and order a couple of bits from the 7 Floor Malaysia Tea Room (the name is a bit of a mystery - maybe they started on the 7th floor of somewhere else, as Holborn Food Hub is very definitely on the ground floor). Chicken wings arrived first - robust, healthy things, properly jointed (no wingtips here) and with a lovely bubbly, crackly exterior. Assam Laksa was a giant bowl full of pineapple-spiked seafood broth, topped with sticks of cucumber and pineapple and onion and with a mound of thick Udon-y style noodles (I'm sure there's a Malaysian word for them, sorry) hiding underneath. The aroma as it moved around the room was incredible - and triggered a long-forgotten memory of visiting a hawker still in Kuala Lumpur back when I was just fresh out of university. Back then I probably ended up with something more timid like, well, chicken wings - but it's amazing how long the memory of smells linger as more or less everything else gradually fades. Beef rendang was impeccable - probably the best the capital has to offer, and I've tried a few. There is a surprising amount of very bad rendang in London (the Roti King version is awful - particularly odd when you consider the rest of their offering is decent) but this was doing absolutely everything right, from the complex depth of flavour of the sauce to the beautifully meltingly tender chunks of beef. Also worthy of note was the accompanying sambal which added a beguiling whole new set of umami flavours into the mix. Some slices of cucumber added a welcome salad element, fried shallots (I think they were) added crunch and salty vegetal flavour, and finally a hard boiled egg (because why not) completed the dish. Just like the Assam Laksa, if you were served this from a hawker stall in Malaysia you would be more than happy. There was no printed bill - the girl behind the counter just offered the contactless machine having seemingly done the total in her head - but £41 seemed perfectly reasonable for the amount and quality of food, and I should also mention the service which was so lovely and friendly it was like being invited to eat in someone's front room. Albeit a front room with way too many closely-packed tables and chairs. 9/10

How long would it take to ride all the Overground lines? I gave it a go, and I started in the obvious place. Intermission two members of staff on duty, one sweeping the platforms and the other holed up in his kiosk in case any situation transpired that required his involvement. This seemed ridiculously unlikely. But perhaps the most surprising thing about Emerson Park is that TfL's Overground rebranding team have completely forgotten it exists. revealed simultaneously on launch day. This reveal happened everywhere else but failed to happen at Emerson Park which means the orange vinyl sticker is still on display, not the proper grey sign underneath. If you wander over to the panel between the Oyster pad and the Help Point you can see a thin grey strip poking above the top of the orange sticker, as yet unrevealed. And if you look closer at the bumps in the vinyl you can clearly see the raised letters L i b e r t y underneath the phrase 'Trains to Romford and Upminster'. at Upminster on the way to platform 6. But somehow the instruction never made it to Emerson Park, so here we are SIX MONTHS LATER with the signage still in its pre-launch state. It's not even an unstaffed station. Those responsible for Overground rebranding should be mighty embarrassed, as should whoever's responsible for managing this station for failing to notice the non-reveal on any of the last 180 days. I hope to see the proper grey sign next time I go back. OK, here comes my first train, start the stopwatch. Liberty line: Emerson Park to Upminster (00:00-00:04) Suffragette line: Barking to Walthamstow Queen's Road (00:23-00:36) Weaver line: Walthamstow Central to Hackney Downs (00:48-00:57) Mildmay line: Hackney Central to Canonbury (01:06-01:10) Windrush line: Canonbury to Highbury and Islington (01:20-01:21) Lioness line: Euston to South Hampstead (01:44-01:48) Tube Challenge online forum the record is 1 hour and 34 minutes, although only one person's ever tried it before which to be perfectly fair isn't exactly surprising. second fastest person ever to ride all six Overground lines. I particularly like how my optimum route started at the least used Overground station, which is Emerson Park, and ended at the second least used Overground station, which is South Hampstead. And it may have been a stupid thing to do but I'd never have noticed the unrevealed Liberty line panel at Emerson Park otherwise, something TfL have yet to do themselves.

Jurassic Coast (part 2) Colmer's Hill (50.74°N, 2.79°W) Colmer's Hill. Stand in the town's main street and its summit is perfectly framed on the near horizon, a silhouette so simplistic it's what a child would draw. Get closer and it looks even better. The hill is an uplift of sandstone about two miles west of the town on the Symondsbury estate, technically on private land but with multiple permissive tracks to the top. If driving leave your vehicle in the free car park by the bijou barn/shop/cafe cluster and try not to be too distracted by the bacon rolls and willow weaving workshops. The tiny hamlet of Symondsbury somehow supports a pub and primary school, beyond which turn right past the circa 1449 farmhouse and keep climbing. It is tempting to aim for the summit prematurely but that gets ridiculously steep, plus the footpath ahead is arguably more amazing than the hill. Shutes Lane is a 'holloway', a sunken footpath following a fault in the clay which climbs in a shady notch between two fields. It looks like somewhere hobbits would live. The sides of the holloway are dark with green ferns and gnarled roots, and the higher you climb the steeper they get. The rock is also very easy to scratch so heavily inscribed with names, patterns, designs and even in one location the face of Homer Simpson. Our groom and best man insisted they were not responsible for one particularly prominent act of nominative graffiti. I first learned of the holloway's existence in an episode of Radio 4's Open Country, which you can listen to here, although they didn't get the dappled light and sprinkling of bluebells that added even further to the eerie experience. Continue west and Shute's Lane becomes Hell's Lane, another holloway descending to the village of North Chideock, but for Colmer's Hill you need to dogleg back at Quarry Cross and follow the sheep track across open pasture. excellent views across West Dorset on the way up. The summit alas is surrounded by a ring of pine trees which may look excellent from a distance but blocks much of the highest panorama, plus goodness knows how the Ordnance Survey see much from the trig point. When you're ready to descend watch out for bluebells and sheep on the way down, plus currently a lot of the cutest lambs, and you could easily have the entire circuit completed on half an hour flat. Bridport (50.73°N, 2.76°W) Bridport is a Saxon town with a former penchant for ropemaking, so much so that a nickname for the hangman's noose was once a 'Bridport Dagger'. You can tell it's old because it has a North Street, West Street, South Street and East Street, three of which meet at the town hall, which is also where the Tourist Information Office resides. Bridport peaked historically when King Charles II stayed here while fleeing to France in 1651, overnighting in an old inn that's now a charity shop. Where the town continues to score highly is as a cultural hub with multiple festivals and arts events throughout the year, plus a steady stream of minor musical acts and Radio 4-friendly comedians taking to the stage at the Electric Palace. We turned up on market day with the main streets lined by veg-sellers and crafty stalls, which proved invaluable for wedding-present-purchasing reasons. It also meant a live band was playing 70s classics to toetapping pensioners in Bucky Doo Square (and no, nobody knows for sure why it's called that). Food is another Bridport plus, not just the fact there's a Waitrose but also the wide variety of local produce and baked goods available at all price points from hearty sausage rolls to elegant seafood dining. For the full backstory to everything try Bridport Museum on South Street - that's a fiver - or for a longer explore try the three mile Bridport Green Route circuit - see free leaflet. All that's really missing is some seaside, and thankfully that's only a brief hop away. West Bay (50.71°N, 2.76°W) West Bay is Bridport's slightly down at heel cousin, a place for chips and crabbing, but also rightly renowned for maritime pleasure and as the site of 'that' beach. The East Cliff is a stunning hump of golden sandstone, best seen in sharp sunshine, and also the site of the first death in Broadchurch which was totally filmed here. Stomp out across the pebble ridge and you'll soon reach the site where Danny Latimer's body was found, thankfully no longer roped off with David Tennant and Olivia Colman taking notes. These days the clifftop is barriered instead, the wiggly path up the grass slope now untrodden as safety concerns over subsidence take precedence. Walk the beach and you can see the evidence - multiple small rockfalls and the occasional massive slump where an entire stack of sand has collapsed exposing more of the rock behind to inexorable weathering. The most recent large fall was overnight on 30th December, depositing a huge orange mound all the way down to the water's edge and blocking shoreward passage. The power of the sea has inevitably cleared away the landslide re-enabling an exhilarating beach stroll with a sensational backdrop, although you can already see the cracks where the next chunk of golf course might fall next. The heart of West Bay is a small harbour at the mouth of the River Bride, a refuge for those who enjoying messing around in small boats and dipping for crabs. Around the edge are souvenir shops and a few sturdy pubs, including The George which appears to be where all the bikers end up after they've roared into town and pulled up by the bus turnaround. Ice cream is available in a variety of locations and forms (I plumped for the Purbeck Lemon Ripple) but the true common denominator is fish and chips. Of the six kiosks by the harbour bridge five sell chips and four additionally fish, all I think owned by the same local franchise so it doesn't matter which you pick. The battered cod was soft, flaky, delicious and still sub-£10... and best of all the seagulls stayed well out of reach. Other sights to see in West Bay include a small but lovingly-compiled museum, officially the Discovery Centre, which is based in a convenient Victorian chapel. As well as exhibits they do a four page leaflet in case you want to identify the chief Broadchurch locations from all three series, most of which are within a five minute walk, including the amusement arcade where the local newspaper was supposedly based and the apartment block that doubled up as the police station. The detectives often walked out along the East Pier because it meant the TV cameras could get the iconic cliffs in the background. And this is also the precise point where Chesil Beach begins, the breakwater cutting off any further longshore drift, should you be a pebble starting your long journey down to Portland. My Jurassic Coast Flickr album: Now with 50 photos! (newest first)

Earlier this month I was lucky enough to eat probably the best burger I've ever had in my life. It was a smash burger, cooked quickly on a flat-top to a good crust, placed inside a toasted sweet bun and dressed with little more than deli cheese. And before I get accused of being deliberately misleading I'll say now - it wasn't at Whole Beast. The Friendly in San Diego is a slightly bizarre little operation serving just two things - decent, if unspectacular, pizza by the slice in the New York style, and probably the greatest burger on the West Coast. It's a simple concept but then the greatest things often are - good, coarse, high fat content ground beef, smashed onto a searing hot flat top and aggressively seasoned. Deli cheese is melted on top, and then the single patty goes into a wide, flat bun. So far, so 2025. So this is a tale of two burgers. Or to be more accurate, three burgers across two burger joints. It's not Whole Beast's fault that I had a life-changing sandwich made to a very similar spec in California four days before I found myself heading up Blackhorse Road towards their residency at Exhale taproom, but then I'm afraid life isn't fair. Just ask Dick and Mac McDonald. Whole Beast are clearly burger-lovers, and burger aficionados, as they are doing pretty much everything right in the construction of their offerings. Both have a generous amount of good beef, smashed out flat and wide, spilling attractively outside of the soft toasted buns. The cheeseburger (£13) is a thing of wonderful simplicity made with care and heart - the toasted bread and crisp beef crackle deliciously as you bite down into it, and the melted cheese eases the whole thing along. It really is a superb burger. I like the green chilli cheeseburger slightly less, perhaps because the chilli element comes in the form of a kind of smooth, cold chutney, and there's quite a lot of it, which throws the delicate balance of textures in the smash burger off slightly. I did appreciate the hit of chilli though - they didn't hold back on that - and this was, all said, still a very well constructed burger, with the same crunchy, almost honeycombed beef patty and squishy soft/toasted buns. Their crinkle-cut chips are also excellent, every bit as good as those served by Shake Shack (the only smash burger chain worth bothering with), and holding a nice, greaseless crunch right to the very bottom of the bowl. Smoked chicken wings had a fantastic hearty, bouncy texture that spoke of very good chicken, and a lovely note of smoke accompanied every bite. I will forgive them for leaving the wing tips on (why serve something you can't eat? You might just as well leave the feathers on) because they were so fun to get stuck into, and the "wild leek ranch" they were coated in was a refreshing counterpoint to the smoked meat. The only slight disappointment of the lunch were these cucumbers, which despite the addition of "whipped tofu dressing, chilli crisp, furikake" and something else obliquely referred to as "GGG" (your guess is as good as mine) mainly tasted of, well, what they were - plain, unpickled, chopped cucumbers in a vaguely Japanese salad dressing. And I don't know about you, but I can prepare raw cucumbers fairly easily myself at home. And they don't cost £7. So again, it's hardly a disaster that Whole Beast's version of the smash burger isn't quite on a par with what is regularly spoken about as one of North America's greatest (just ask Reddit) - it's just sheer coincidence I managed to try both in the space of a week, and there was only ever going to be one winner in that battle. The fact is, the E17 variety is still, by any measure, a smashing (pun intended) achievement and a lovely way to spend your lunch money. And London's burger scene is all the better for its existence. I forgot to take a photo of the bill but the damage per person came to about £33 with a pint of Exale beer each. And yes, that is a terrible photo of the Friendly Dirty Flat Top Cheeseburger, sorry - you'll have to take my word for it that it looked a lot better in person.