EDitorial ± 15-Nov-2024

Woodbridge Lunches: Brownbread

Fully fifteen trips around the sun ago did the original light lunch trio partake of the Cake Shop Bakery at Woodbridge, back in the days when Andy was working and Grenvyle was with us. Forward four years and the extant pair slid down the pole into next door's Firestation for early veggie treats. Those buildings came up for sale in 2022 and, well, here we are again, happy as can be.

"New and invigorated but with ongoing work" applies both to Andy, not long returned from his Scandi noir surgery, and Brownbread, who acquired the old CSB premises. The latter's had the shop open since February 2024, their first actual store: NB they're Essex based and pop up at markets from Worthing to Walthamstow to Wymondham. Ipswich, too. Meanwhile Andy's popping a pantry-full of post-op pills including one made of Alien blood requiring the lucky recipient to stand up for half an hour. Talking of, let's take a seat, of which there's only half a dozen at present.

Too late for the breakfast rolls, alas, so that'll be hot soup (roasted parsnip, apple and honey) or a toasty for we two travellers. Pastrami with mustard mayo and onion jam for me, tack, and a four-cheese for Sgt Steroid. Handy window seats face the entrance to Gobbitt's Yard, once home to the fab Cooks Shed, and allow the fine folk of the 'Bridge to eyeball our foodstuffs. Toasties are delivered in tip-top style within greaseproof wrap in a branded box. Nice, and they very much are with a Fentiman's Cola on the side. Did Andy expect the Marmite with his dairy quartet? No, but he coped admirably.

Fancy a cake for dessert? Are ITFC in the Premier League? Yes to both, though hang on. That is what we in the computer business would term a large array; those pastries and slices and buns go on and on and on for at least four solid cabinets. With his new Worzel Gummidge deciding head, Andy picks the sophisticated spiced apple and almond cake. With my simpler brain, I go for the primary colours of the "kid's favourite!" rainbow cake atop the counter. Smashing sugar hit when paired with a really rather good macchiato. Those ongoing works are 'cos they're busy removing a door to add more seats, which is kind of what the Swedish chefs did to Andy. May both prosper.

If it was a car -- Porsche Macan from Browns of Maldon.
If they were passing by -- Tom Brown.

EDitorial ± 6-Oct-2024

Crinkle-Crankle Walls in Suffolk, 111-112

(visit the list of crinkle-crankle walls in Suffolk and view the accompanying Google map)

— (111) Barnby, The Street —

(visited 06-Oct-2024)

Where's Barnby, you're asking? Next to North Cove.Near Mutford, if that helps? OK, they're all betwixt Beccles and Lowestoft.

Cast your mind back to the late August bank holiday. I suggested to G. that we, as a couple, could get the pushbikes then let the train take the strain up the East Suffolk line (think I developed a taste for the journey on a birthday trip to Lowestoft). Alighted (alit?) at Beccles, rode up Gaol Lane, had the best takeaway croque monsieur evs from the tiny Two Magpies, then cycled out via Worlingham in the vague direction of Oulton Broad.

Mr Google directed us on a safe path alongside the A146 through the aforementioned North Cove and into previously unknown Barnby. Obliged to stop at the charming Chapel Coffee Lounge for caffeine 'n' cake, and back on the saddle along The Street. Hold on, what's that on the left?

Of course, I haven't seen a wall properly unless I'm with me old ma. Cue a revisit, this time en voiture, in early October and still with patches of blue sky. Parked on the grass opposite gives a very clear view of the Clearview contemporary crinkle-crankle; well, once the guy walking his miniature horse had gone by. Street View's snaps from 2009 show a totally different picture of a bungalow set back in plenty o' garden. That must have been totalled and replaced by the current development. And, walking back past the nearby primary school, there are definite masonic curves at Wiggs Acre too. Closer you get to Carlton Colville, the higher the wavy wall count.

— (112) Beccles, Laurels End —

(visited 06-Oct-2024)

My plan, post Barnby, was to park in Beccles and stroll to the other to-do destination half a mile away. What I hadn't appreciated was the steep ascent from the Waveney Meadow car park on Puddingmoor (yes, near that sweet wall) to Ballygate and the many hundred subsequent yards past Hungate Lane, along London Road and left on Peddars Lane. Did my mum bring any water? Did I? Not as such. Was mightly glad to hit Ingate and cease our weary gait at Laurels End.

On that same bank holiday cycle trip we'd eventually caught the train back from lovely Lowestoft. Coming through Beccles, I felt a bit like William Shatner wiping the plane window in that Twilight Zone episode: nothing on the wing this time but heck, isn't that a wall out there?

Over there's the railway line. Over here's an infill handful of houses with some waviness -- on both sides! -- at the entrance, probably of a similar modern vintage to Barnby. My mum, heart rate slowly normalising, quite liked the walls but was a whole lot less keen on the bins, wanting to shift them for her Facebook photos. Bonus points for the autumnal hues draped over the coping stones. And everybody much happier when we were tucking into well-deserved desserts at The King's Head, aka the local 'Spoons.

EDitorial ± 4-Oct-2024

Ipswich Lunches: Deluxe Coffee Bar

I've had some meaningful messages from Siri-devotee Andy over the years: the one that comes to mind is his "Boris talking to a hobnob" entry from this time last year. Latest one, sent 09:14 on a WFH Friday, proposed a cafe trip "outdoors ideally or spacious inside to avoid catching anything". Nope, not the Covax but sensible precautions before his Abba adventure.

Month ten yet the sun did shine as I Pogacar-ed through the herd outside the Grazing Sheep down on the docks. No sign of patient zero when I arrived -- always a bit weird to be first -- so may as well get fed. An old fave, chilli jacket, is on the late Terry Hall's list. Sorry, says the woman, but that's gone. Darn it, I think, scouring the nicely compact blackboards. There follows a tactical switch to the "meaty", the two-of-everything all day breakfast. I'll bring it out, she says. Fortunately there's a seat in the shade 'cos the outlook is straight from Poula Fisch.

I'm sipping cream soda and very much enjoying my full-fat English when Mr PDTT rolls up, most apologetic after a sweaty long walk from near Holywells Park. Quicksnap he's ordered and secured a sweet chilli chicken wrap from that selfsame specials board and sat opposite, half in the punishing sun and at a safe distance from YT. We came here in a black and white world, I say, way back when it was Colours. Not sure we ever revisited when it mutated into Coffee Cat. And now, looking very much the same, it's progressed through the alphabet and gone Deluxe with talk of opening later into the evenings. That'd be no bad thing given its location location location.

Plates once again cleared, in I trot for neat sweet treats; Andy's already got his name on a slice of a certain something, and I spot my two-letter appelation on a slab of carrot cake. Usual drinks too, being his chai latte and my flat white, a decent one that's brought to my shiny table. The person facing me is using a fork to stuff himself with lemon cheesecake. In a week's time he'll be under the knife so a Swedish surgeon can stuff him with stem cells. Between bites he hands me his phone to better show me an image of a friend's MRI. Not now, Cato.

If it was a car -- De Luxe Ford.
If they were passing by -- Bill Nelson.

EDitorial ± 16-Aug-2024

Light Lunches: Southwold

Late July email from Boyton Boy said "Maybe we should set aside a whole Friday afternoon to blitz Southwold?" and listed a number of possible dates, some of which were actually Fridays. I was a good boy at work and managed to bank half a day's TOIL and thus arrangements were finalised.

Good of Andy to pick me up in the fleet Panda -- don't try to open that passenger window -- and do the drive. You know we did a similar thing in Aldeburgh nearly six years ago to the day, I say? Yes, he does. I'd usually turn left into Latitude but it's a right into the outskirts of Southwold, East of Ipswich. The weather? Gorgeous.

— The Canteen —

Continuing the Aldeburgh symmetry, we're once again kicking things off slightly out of town. Highly rated, says Andy, as we emerge from a side street to behold the smart Canteen. Part of the old town hospital, to the rear is the library and to the front is the eatery. In we go, and I'm immediately starstruck by the presence of Mr Simon M*yo on my immediate left. And that must be the good lady ceramicist her-indoors sat opposite. Should have realised that the Wittertainment summer cruise docks in upmarket Southwold.

We grab a large Aperol-shaded picnic table out front and, scanning the specials, I hear my name. If it isn't Adrian, fellow would-be scribe and breakfast bike ride comrade. Before I know it he's off to say hi to a nearby woman. That's Tracy Macleod, he tells me, ex-Late Show presenter and restaurant critic. Bonus for me is that she once appeared on Sean's Show. Everyone's here.

Excellent menu includes courgette tart, naked oat risotto, baked leek, etc. I"m starting small with a sumptuous starter of soft-boiled egg, m*yo (of course) and anchovy -- while Andy being Andy opts for a full main course of Cromer crab remoulade with cabbage and kohlrabi. Classiest community caff we've ever frequented.

— Bloomcore —

Opposite The Canteen stands the mighty (Grade I) St Edmund church. Through the graveyard brings us to Bartholomew Green, not another Salford media type but a peaceful back street. Adnams, who seem ubiquitous hereabouts, have their beer shop by here. I suggest we take liquid refreshment at the florist. Flowers on one side, Fentimans and Frobishers on the other plus a small selection of cakes.

I very much like that Bloomcore name, sounding as it does like a weird sub-genre of horticultural heavy metal. Cute table-for-two outside, as per St Nicholas Sandwich Shop, and a decent setting to sip a can o' Chocomel. Shame about that Border Bus blocking our view which is decidedly stationary: note that Southwold station closed way way back in 1929.

— Cornish Bakery —

Come 2pm Andy's led us on a detour to view the Electric Picture Palace, the town's very own "not just a cinema" opened by that Michael Palin back in 2002. Showing tonight? Death At A Funeral (2007) with Matthew Macfadyen. I could eat a pasty, I say, just as the Cornish Bakery shows itself. No choice, then, but to cross High Street. Only later did I realise that my subconscious had obviously seen the cinema as a pastiche of the 1912 original.

Savoury for me: a National Trust-esque spiced cauliflower pasty, warmed. Sugary for him: a bronut. Not a brioche/donut but a brownie/donut. Your bakers were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, they didn't stop to think if they should. Not as sweet as I expected, says Andy, once more soaking up the East Coast sun while I wince slightly at the strengh of my miniature piccolo coffee and at details of my companion's upcoming Parkinson's surgery. Were they oligarchs? he asked as some intriguing accents strolled past us.

— Suzie's Beach Cafe —

We need to get some steps in, I said, before I can possibly eat anything else. No stopping for us at Duchies nor the Tiptree Tea Room nor the Black Olive Deli nor Squiers. Right-ish down Queen Street and left at The Red Lion and down to the prom-diddly-prom. Nothing apparently to our right so left we head. Ooh, nice beach huts hereabouts, and there's that DJ-turned-author again. Walking towards us is friend and neighbour Sarah: did I mention that absolutely everyone is here today?

Here's Suzie's Beach Cafe which they say does an extremely good bacon and runny egg bap. Can't quite face that. Andy queues and orders me a pistachio ice cream (cone) and himself a pear and vanilla flavour which, he's told, has to be served in a tub. Two chaps in their late 50s then take a pew on the edge of the prom to enjoy their ices.

— Boating Lake Tearoom —

Up with a creak then a lazy promenade along the promenade admiring the odd game of beach cricket and the occasional sandcastle creation. Plethora of scoff places on the pier, a favourite location of my mum's with the kids. I felt the need to take a look at the George Orwell mural having been here in July 2014 when Pure Evil, the artist, was at work. Still good.

Beyond the pier, huge rooftop letters are calling to us: TEA ROOM. Yes, we've reached the Boating Lake and yet again they're offering all sorts of treats (home-made battenberg!) that our stomachs can't stomach. Took a relaxing table on the verandah to take tea -- sophisticated Andy the Earl Grey, philistine me the English breakfast -- and observe the kiddies in their self-powered side-rotor boats. Took me back to the covered boating lake in Kensington Gardens in lovely Lowestoft. Andy, with a better view than me, sees and hears those same potential oligarchs at another table. If they're following us, it's out of curiosity to see how much we can put away this afternoon.

— Two Magpies —

Half-four now, my kind of time, and I wouldn't usually celebrate the fact that many places are either closing or closed. However, we noted much earlier that Two Magpies on the High Street reliably shuts at 5pm and we might just make it. Hello, North Parade, Hi, lighthouse.

Ten-to-five when we reach it and signs are being brought in but yes, the guy says we can take a seat inside if we don't mind them tidying up around us. That fifteen minute walk from the seafront has freed up sufficient space for a big slice of tiramisu, shared, and a final coupla drinks. Sensible ginger beer for the driver and a large takeaway latte for YT. First time for me here at what I believe is the original 2M branch. Ambitious, you'll now find their shops in Darsham, Woodbridge, Beccles and Framlingham and a handful over the border in N*rfolk.

And yes, I did forget to take a Two Magpies snap so that's a Lego version of the Team GB logo spotted in a Southwold window. Good work, all concerned.

... and still missed The Pit Stop, Cafe on the Green, Gun Hill Beach Kiosk, Harris & James, Jakery Bakery, et cetera et cetera.

EDitorial ± 26-Jul-2024

Ipswich Lunches: St Nicholas Sandwich Shop

He's off to the tip so a trip is proposed I'll just nip into town past the roundabout Ship and then whip right past Willis and zip up The Saints where it's happening and hip for some dip and a sip except there's a blip and I might have to skip. Flip.

We settled on a 2:30pm rendezvous before I realised that the new-to-us Sandwich Shop on St Nicholas Street closes at that very time. Oh, and I was deep in a WFH Teams call around 2pm. Dead important work stuff finally over, I made one of those old-fashioned phone calls -- remember those? -- and the nice lady was happy to take my pre-order for two sarnies. I'll be there for half-two-ish, I said. Don't hurry, she said, we'll be cleaning. Good good.

Andy, sweetly smelling despite his waste-related visit, is there first, obvs. Even more typically, he's chatting to another customer who turns out to be Yet Another Contact of his. Boy's like a walking talking Linked In. Far too nice to sit indoors when we can nab the pair of battenberg seats out front. Smiling woman wants reassurance that I didn't hurry down -- my glowing face perhaps gave me away -- and hands over our goodies. We ain't going far.

For some years this was the highly rated St Nicholas Stores. Last year, 2023, Katrina (she serves) and Andy (he bakes) bought the business to establish "the home of the focaccia sandwich". Out in the darn heat, we're sharing (aw!) the Italian -- sausage and mozzarella and pesto -- and a Bean -- roasted veg and white bean and tapenade. Both made with grilled focaccia, they're finger-licking fine and super suited to a sun-drenched street.

Poor decision to pre-purchase our chocolate heavy desserts which are now in a more liquid form inside their paper bags. Many napkins were involved in the consumption of some fine ginger tiffin. Diagonally down the road is Cafe Myra whereas up the road is Rocket Music, outside of which is a guitar being examined by a guy with a familiar face. That'll be Matthew, one-time tuba tooter. After saying our light lunch goodbyes, I spent the next half-hour reminiscing about life in the Westbourne School Brass Band, 1979 to 1984, a story for another time.

If it was a car -- Nichols N1A.
If they were passing by -- Nicholas Hoult.

EDitorial ± 19-Jul-2024

Light Lunches: Sarah's Coffee Shop, Wherstead

Fabulous WFH Friday, a Bute of a day. Sun's big and bold up in the Skye and I'm freshly back from the fourth-largest island in Scotland, that there Mull. Arran to meet Andy outside the newly tarted-up Tesco but he beat me to it; I failed to recognise his Yeti. Me? Iona VW Polo.

Out by Morrison's we figuratively speed from J54 round to J56 then left into The Street (reach Jimmy's Farm and you've gone too far). Were we playing ping-pong, we'd head into the stable block. Word is, however, of a new-ish eatery in Wherstead Park so let's be cheeky and park with the executives right outside. Used to be the HQ of Eastern Electricity when I attended meetings here over 20 years ago; is now home to the Rochdale Pioneers, aka your caring sharing Co-op.

Through the magic doors and first left, even before reception, is Sarah's Coffee Shop, a curved area with a smattering of tables and a concise three-column menu on the wall:

  • column 1 — hot drinks / cold drinks / teas
  • column 2 — sandwiches, wraps or rolls / jacket potato
  • column 3 — panini / salads / snacks

So what do we do? What we do is both order The Mike, today's handwritten special panini with pesto, chorizo, chicken, cheese and sundried tomato. Is your mouth watering? It should be, 'cos those hot 'n' toasty breads we were brought five minutes later were very good indeed. Note my Nettles-approved Cawston apple on the side and the driver's apple 'n' lemon 'n' ginger fruit cooler. Which is an apt time to mention the ambient cool temperature, a welcome change from the Friday furnace.

I'm chewing away when one of the many worker ants taking away their lunch stops to say hi. It's always Andy who knows somebody. Finally my turn to wave, wipe my cheesy mouth and exchange words with a former colleague. Weird. Of course we didn't need that carrot cake nor the chocolate muffin yet of course we had them, mine with a huge flat (but actually quite tall) white.

Saying our thank-yous to the single woman running the place -- not Sarah today -- she asked how we'd heard about The Mike. I pointed at the mini blackboard on the countertop. Oh, she said, not on the radio, then? I gather that Sarah has a show on Suffolk Sounds and had been discussing sandwich fillings, and, waddya know, had promoted her own product. Why not when it's that delicious?

If it was a car -- Sarah Jane Smith's Nissan Figaro.
If they were passing by -- Sarah Crabtree.

EDitorial ± 16-Jun-2024

Brighten The Corners Ipswich 2024

Has it really been twelve months since last year's festival? Why yes, yes it has. Had to dig the e-ticket out of my inbox since I'd purchased a super early bird ticket way way back in July 2023, keen bean that I am.

Headed into the newly Premier Town straight after work having spent many hours working my way through the official BTC2024 Spotify playlist. Like that, quite like that, really like that, then the simple matter of translating those preferences to Clashfinder, the modern way.

Day 1 -- Friday

  • (17:40) Arthur Black at St Stephen's -- church is crazy busy pre-6pm to welcome this strident three-piece with their repetitive choruses
  • (18:30) Ugly at St Stephen's -- six of 'em on stage, four with mics; full and joyous choral work; previously seen supporting Black Country, New Road in that Bristol
  • (19:20) CLT DRP at The Baths -- now here's a proper frontman and she's a woman; lascivious, loud, and lewd
  • (19:45) Borough Council at Smokehouse -- serious young men in denial of their audience with their murkily intense and intensively driving and drivingly murky sound
  • (20:15) Honesty at The Baths -- fabulous tech in the form of a big virtual screen (for images and lyrics) behind which they hide; kudos for including RarelyAlways
  • (20:45) Trout at Smokehouse -- as busy as it gets left me zero view from the back; female fronted, I think; left halfway and passed a big queue outside
  • (21:20) Jim at St Stephen's -- late starting; guy next to me asked to take a picture of my Alan Brazil T-shirt; when they appeared, all too smooth and grown-up for me so headed to the chippy
  • (22:25) Art School Girlfriend at St Stephen's -- waited and waited; perhaps this is it, I wondered, more of an art installation, then finally started just as I left to grab a Cosy Club takeaway coffee
  • (23:15) Theon Cross at The Baths -- ex-Sons Of Kemet, Theon's the guy doing outrageous stuff with that tuba; absolutely unique; brief post-midnight chat with Joe Bailey, him who's behind this whole delightful thing

Day 2 -- Saturday

  • (16:25) Man Woman Chainsaw at The Baths -- packed inside; comparisons with Black Country, New Road (them again); loved it
  • (16:55) En Attendant Anna at St Stephen's -- from Paris, you know? completely unexpectedly hit quite the prog groove; mesmeric
  • (17:45) The Brackish at St Stephen's -- guys with guitars; it's a Dave Gilmour tribute competition with all contestants on stage
  • (17:55) Lucy Grubb at Cornhill -- sweet country sounds in the open air; heard mention of the Mason Dixon line
  • (18:40) Tapir at St Stephen's -- had to queue to get in then treated to strong melodies with occasional trumpet
  • (19:15) Divorce at Corn Exchange -- clearly used to a large stage, emitted Radio 2 vibes; pro performance with a commanding singer
  • (19:35) Mary In The Junkyard at St Stephen's -- distinctive voice and looks with a pleasing sound
  • (19:55) Lambrini Girls at Corn Exchange -- girl punks, no messing but much moshing; encouraged gay legends to come forward and for everyone to flip the police: mighty powerful
  • (20:25) C Turtle at Smokehouse -- splintering guitars filled that tiny room; give 'em more space next time
  • (21:15) Ebbb at Smokehouse -- humungous noise from guy with drummer, lead man appearing possessed with his moves; torture in a fun way

...and still missed Ibibio Sound Machine, Shame and Coach Party.

TBH I had planned to catch one or two more bands after Ebbb but my ears were telling me enough, no more, 'tis not so sweet as it was before. Hence headed home to watch the Scotland 1-5 Germany highlights. Pleased to see Fullkrug on the scoresheet since I'd tipped him as the leading Euro 2024 scorer.

Town absolutely buzzes during Brighten The Corners. Let's keep this going.