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Last night, I left work and bowled down the M4 to see Bill Bailey in Hammersmith Riverside Studios.

Having left plenty of time for getting stuck on the M4, I didn't. I pulled off just before the Hammersmith Flyover, and discovered just why they built the flyover. The gyratory underneath is a bloody nightmare - one of those huge roundabouts where they feel that lane markings would only cramp people's individuality. There's space for three or four cars abreast at most places, and vehicles roam about freely. I had to go all the way round it to take the last exit, and it was a thoroughly unpleasant experience.

Despite that I parked up neatly in roadside parking half an hour early, and then realised my mistake. The roadside parking is metered: I had money, but no change. I rustled up enough change for half an hour's parking, and departed to purchase a drink from a nearby newsagent. Armed with coins, I figured I had to entertain myself for 25 minutes until my existing ticket ran out.

Hammersmith confuses me. It always has. I can never find my way around. So I selected an arbitrary direction to walk in to pass the time.

Fulham Palace Road isn't really a tourist destination in the broader sense. I looked obviously out of place as I strolled down it, gazing about me. Everyone else was walking purposefully, heads down or on phones. (Yes, I did make sure I wasn't getting in the way: I live in Oxford, I know what it's like when people amble along looking at the buildings and you're trying to get home to have a cup of tea).

In many ways, Fulham Palace Road is extremely dull. There's not a lot to interest even the most determined tourist. I can, however, be very determined. I now know where the Croatian National Tourism Office is, which will doubtless come in handy one day. I looked at a huge variety of slipper-styles in a downmarket footwear shop. I found a brick block of flats, rather self-consciously named "Keir Hardie House".

I watched a golden-pink cloud diplodocus drift slowly over Charing Cross Hospital. I discovered that Luigi's, an italian restaurant opposite that august institution, offers a 15% discount for medical students, doctors, nurses, and anyone with more than 45 stitches.

Ultimately, I headed back to the parking meter via a small park, and began feeding it coins. Designated Hero of the Week is accordingly the smartly-suited gentleman who informed me as he passed that you don't have to pay after half past six. I'm glad someone was on the ball.

Riverside Studios seems to be actually more like an Arts Centre with films, theatre, workshops, exhibitions and various cafes and bars. The restaurant serves impressive food - you know it's a good menu when you've got sufficiently excited about the dishes in the first half of the list that you barely bother reading the second. Which meant I'd got a shortlist of four before I even made it out of the vegetarian section of the menu. My crumbed mozzarella with smoked chilli jam and salad was really rather nice; I'd avoided the squash risotto on the grounds that no restaurant can cook risotto, then discovered (by judicious theft of forkfuls across the table) that this one can.

It seems the restaurant is open to all, and is handy for the Hammersmith Appollo: vegetarians take note.

Oh, and Bill Bailey was quite funny, too.