EDitorial ± 15-Feb-2008
Felixstowe Light Lunches: Bakers Oven
It may not have the vintage views of the Spa or Mrs Simpsons. It may not have the homespun homeliness of Comptons or Hamiltons. It certainly doesn't have the cultured class of the Oaks, no sirree. None of the above stops a baker's dozen of Felixstowe folk queueing outside in the biting wind for a takeaway bite from the Bakers Oven (see map).
We skipped the line -- don't you know who we are? -- which you're entitled to do if you're eating in, and were then faced with a Woolies' caff situation. There sat several sad permawarm square white dishes, unpromisingly occupied by pastry-clad savoury items of questionable meat content. Grenvyle, brave man, leapt in with his order for two sausage rolls. Breakfast bap for me, please: certainly sir, would you like bacon or sausage with your egg? Or? OR?! Must I choose? Wasn't like this down at the Crow's Nest.
No shortage of places to plonk yourself down in the BO. We landed a window seat, offering, if you will, a window on the world. Good to watch the neverending quest for a decent parking spot coupled with the possible abuse of disabled badges. Freshly assembled bap delivered to table: good to note two sausages; surprised to note the egg was scrambled. Hey, it's all good with a complimentary sachet or two of Heinz's red finest.
Done firsts, now for seconds. Faced with an array of pre-plated cake-y goodies of unknown age. In the end, was influenced by the choice of two people ahead of me who both went for a pink iced bun -- ummm, retro tastiness straight out of Life On Mars. Was tempted to pass on the coffee but, like way back when in the Coffee Shop, eyeballed a "proper" machine. Minute or two later was sipping a pretty good cuppa latte. Now who can change CHAV to SNOB without using *too many* dodgy words?