En route to some early morning McD's pancakes yonks ago, I made passing reference to the local landmark that is the Trimley sausage shop roundabout. Shame, I lamented to Andy as we were about to pass it one lunchtime, that the venerable shop doesn't have a caff attached. Which was when bespectacled Andy spotted the "hot pies" sign sitting outside. Lunch!

One handbrake turn later, us pair were picking our pies inside The Real Sausage Co.. Chicken balti for yours truly and a steak and stilton for the driver, not a favourite of the proprietor, it turned out. Only a couple of quid with no extra charge for an unashamed zap in the microwave. Not quite the the finesse of John Hutton, to be sure, though most likely a darn sight cheaper. No internal seats and no hot drinks on offer, so not strictly on the list. Took advantage of a handy non-memorial wonky bench right outside, however, to down our meat products and sip my Barr cherryade.

That was all a precursor to the main event, a revisit to Goslings. Myself and Andy came here way back with good old Grenvyle and ate our lunch among the labyrinthine polytunnels. Sure I wrote that up at the time, but I cannae find it. So, here's the two of us back again for kaffee und kuchen in what we believe is the new-ish Garden Cafe.

Big shed reminds me of Sax's Pear Tree Cafe and him of Yoxford's Flying Goose Cafe. Ignoring the hooooge range of options on the long laminated menu since we're both pied up, we headed straight for sugary treats. Bakewell for the driver and a top notch white choc and pecan blondie for me. Decent coffee, too. Out through the external tables and it was busy busy busy. John Shuttleworth would love it here. Oof!

If it was a car -- BAV 485.
If they were passing by -- Drake.