The Old Bridge of Wood makes for a handy halfway-ish point between Andy's base in backroads Boyton and mine in Hipswich. Huge number of caffs there. Helps henormously that Woodbridge, according to Rightmove, is "the happiest place to live in Great Britain", beating Richmond-upon-Thames (winner in 2023) to second and Hexham (winner in 2021) to third. Except that was 2024 and, well, things change. Most recent survey in 2025 had wannabe Woodbridge down to 5th behind Harrogate (4th), Camden (3rd), Richmond-upon-Thames (2nd again) and Skipton (winner in 2025). Ipswich's national rank? 87. That compares to the fine city of Norwich (49) and the jewel that is Bury St Edmunds (107, ahem).

Recently I've been doing a lot of bike-on-train journeys. Resisted the urge this time and instead sweatily cycled up and down Sandy Lane one Thursday lunchtime to meet Andy at Longfields, newest incarnation of the caff on Kingston Fields. Third time's a charm, they say, us having visited previously in both 2020 and way back in 2007. Must mention and give full praise to their drinks cabinet. Yes, there are the usual Cokes and Fruit Shoots, but also beverages from:

• Hip Pop -- "fizzy pop that's refreshingly real"
• Fentimans -- "botanically brewed, exquisitely crafted"
• Folkington's -- "authentic juices and mixers"
• Breckland Orchard -- "we make fabulous soft drinks which make people smile"
• San Pellegrino -- "Italian sparkling drinks"
• Pip Organic -- "making it easier for parents to say "yes""

Exactly 2pm when we joined the small queue only to be told, "Sorry, mate, we've just sold the last lunch". Oopsies: no paninis or sandwiches or jackets for us. Our good fortune, however, that they had a pair of prime sausage rolls remaining, and doubly delicious they were too with a bag of Brown Bag crisps on the side. All helped by finding an outside table within the pavilion's shade. My can of Hip Pop ginger and turmeric added more than a little zest.

Sweet treats were found in the form of ice creams at the reliable Riverside kiosk. Ride home or take the train? Neither since Andy 'andily offered to put my bike in his VW boot for the return TrIpswich. Him to physio, me to the nearest Lidl to cool down in their chilled section.

• Instagram -- Longfields Cafe

If it was a car -- Morgan Plus Four from Longfield Motor Co, North Weald.
If they were passing by -- Francis Pryor.

Bad me last attended the local Latitude festival fully three years ago, tut-tut. All change this year as soon as they announced personal hero David Byrne on the bill: here, take my £115 for a day ticket. In fact I'll take another one for my Good Lady Wife, please! Not often I've already got my ticket in January, six months prior to the event. Probs a bigger and better line-up this time due to their 20th anniversary. Think I've done around 15 of those starting in 2008, which ain't bad.

Up past the weird new A12 Sizewell-related roundabouts, parked on the site at 10:25 and into the arena at 10:58, already a long and dusty walk. Security guy deliberately emptied G's water bottle but wasn't interested in mine. Me and her took our oaty flat whites into Listening Post for Danny Does The Crossword, apparently back for its 16th year in a row. Where have I been all that time? There's a bespoke cryptic crossword for the this year's festival and we, as an audience, have 40 minutes to solve it. Example: "Gram and two Es in the mix -- it's not enough (6)". Surprisingly entertaining, and fully completed by the crowd within 25 minutes. Is it going in?

Splitting up, I popped my head into a discussion of street trees at the bookshop tent next door before heading to the huge Second Stage tent for the Adam Buxton Band, in full swing with his large festival pass pinned to his beanie. Crowd loves him up there singing about tea towels and aided by his Metronomy buddies. Lunch time demands meeting at the stumpy tree opposite the merch stand: Middler and boyfriend waiting, eventually joined by G. back from a Gok Wan DJ set. As per a T-shirt I saw, Gok Is A DJ. As per, way too many choices so pick one and stick with it. Very much liked my Irish spice bag eaten like a grown-up at a very long picnic table. Avengers, disperse.

Away from prying familial eyes, treated myself to a £6 marshmallow cone. Had hoped to catch some of Flo & Joan but that comedy stage is first come first served, so onto some pleasing Mesadorm in the woods -- is that my wife over there? -- then grabbed a grassy spot near the Sunrise for the electronic hardness of Adult DVD. Would later find out that my wife was in there dancing away.

Left mid set to secure a good in-the-tent spot so saw a tiny bit of Courttia Newland whose novel was shortlisted for the Arthur C. Clarke prize. Managed to get best ever place, absolutely front and centre, for the arrival of Adam Buxton and Ivo Graham in their matching Stop Making Sense big suits. Who knew they were such Talking Heads nerds? Terrific fun with singalongs of This Must Be The Place and a big Psycho Killer to finish. Joyous.

Saw one and a half songs by Australians The Heart-Shaped Aces and wandered past Greenpeace Cafe for carrot & chia cake to sustain me through Shellectronica in which nice guy Steve Pretty plays a selection of synth-altered shells. After a quarter of an hour, G. said it was doing her head in; I stayed, flat on the grass, for the full duration. Caught final track by Brooki -- wow -- and bought a £14 lamb curry to nourish me as Alessi Rose did her thing about 200m away, going down a treat with a way younger audience.

First and only time to the mahoosive Obelisk stage, trying and failing to find wife/daughter "near a pink and purple flag". Come 9:30pm and here's the main man, David Byrne, accompanied by a dozen or so musicians and dancers: the future's bright, the future's orange. Wasn't sure he still had it in him -- I'd seen him live in Cambridge in 1994, over 30 years ago -- yet he totally does. He sings, he dances, he makes the world a better place. "We stayed in Norwich," he said. Fine City, I thought. Houses In Motion one of many highlights for me but what a way to end with Burning Down The House. Stunning show.

That 11pm curfew isn't a great time for those of us with poor night-time vision. Follow the crowd, I thought. Down the slope, I thought. Ooh, donuts! And so it was that I brought a bag of fried pastries to various grateful family members at the stumpy tree before we did one last thing for me, namely to check out Gilles Peterson in the woods. Another top man, there with his mate Rob G., doing his stuff on the decks. Shame we were all so v. tired. Said goodbyes to daughter (doing the whole weekend), left the arena at 00:30 and found the trusty VW at 01:15 after another long walk. Pretty good day.

...and still missed Goodbye, Clara Mann and Theatre.

Chapter 19 of the non-bestselling Crinkle-Crankle Crew mentions Hollesley (aka The Colony) and some former notable inmates such as Brendan Behan, Jeffrey Archer and Andy Coulson. Prior to this visit, I suspect the closest I'd been to HM Prison Hollesley Bay was, of course, to visit a couple of serpentine walls, exhibits 1 and 2. Or possible a visit way back in 2012 to the nearby Suffolk Punch Trust which I'm told is currently closed.

In the glory days of Light Lunches there was often talk of visiting the prison. There's a caff? Yep, said Andy, and not one but two. Finally, then, in our Third Age, time to go all Norman Stanley Fletcher. Bike to station, train to Melton (MES), bike to Boyton on that l-o-n-g Going Straight stretch or road. Much needed WC2026 hydration break chez Andy and his GLW then off we go, him on his Nordic poles leading the way to Boyton Marshes, an "example of coastal grazing marshland". Hey, we're on the King Charles III England Coastal Path. Here be locations for The Dig, esp. that scene with Lily James and Johnny Flynn. Whereupon we briefly meet an older guy walking the other way, proudly shirtless.

Boyton Boy, who's doing this walk with someone who's not done it before, tells me we're heading for a distant treeline. He does this several times on our approximate four-mile stroll before we at last see signage for Marsh Barn Coffee Shop. With its giveaway tagline of "brewing new beginnings", the caff is run by some of the prison's Category D guests, that category meaning low risk of escape or harm to the public. And the service? Is absolutely all smiles and extremely polite, in the same way that the prices are extremely cheap. Sandwich and crisps and a can? £4, please. Where did you last see a jacket potato for £2.50? Greatly enjoyed my egg mayo and Piper's and Pepsi Max parked on a picnic bench round the back with Mr and Mrs Andy.

Given its out-of-the-wayness, I thought we'd be among the few people here, but not so. Very popular with the walkers and the twitchers, apparently. Also on offer are some fresh vegetable boxes and a selection of clothes, as a bonus. Veg, nice, obviously, but not as instantly pleasing as the carrot cake and chocolate cake that we split between us. Half-decent cuppa coffee, too. Coming away, I took a photo of the price list. Want to take one of me? said one of the hench T-shirted lads working in the cafe. What would you do?

If it was a car -- Ford Sierra RS Cosworth.
If they were passing by -- Sid Owen.

All of a sudden I seem to have a bit more time on my hands. Thinking more deeply about why that might be, it's most likely related to having re*ired from the world of work at the end of May 2026, ditto the Good Lady Wife. That very first Monday we took the bikes on the train to Brampton (not far from the Old Hall) and cycled seven-or-so miles to the outskirts of Bungay to find The Silo Cafe, aka hipster central, for two quality sausage rolls and a composting loo. That was 1pm. By 4pm, more B-roads explored, we were nibbling Eccles cakes in Twyfords before ending the afternoon in lovely Lowestoft. Hulluva first day of re*irement.

Talking distances, I'd do a 15-mile round trip on the bike Monday to Thursday pre-re*irement. So when Andy suggested a midweek trip, I nominated a destination 10 miles away: can easily do that on two wheels, I thought. Hadn't properly considered the 30+ degree temperature outside, necessitating numerous hydratation (stet) breaks. I arrived a sweaty mess at Newbourne Kitchen. Another eatery in that village? Nope: Nourish moved out to Helmingham after seven years and a fella named Noel Kearney has started afresh here at Newbourne.

Andy, post-physio and pre-ping pong, met me outside. Shall we go in? Boiling out here. Now, I'd assumed it'd be more or less just us on a sweltering Wednesday. Very much not so, the place being crammed with active oldies which, in a sense, is very much us too. And, unlike my VW Polo, the air conditioning works. They go hard on the breakfast items here at the Kitchen with the odd P+Q+S too, panini and quiche and salad. To fit in with the bakin' conditions out there, I'll have the blueberry pancakes with maple syrup and bacon (£11.50) and he'll have the smashed avo bagel add bacon (£12). Remember, kids, bacon's a treat. With a Frobisher's for me and a Cawston's for him. As per Nourish, the quality is high.

Inside and out are obviously much as they were in the Nourish era, with stacks of exterior seating and a deceptively spacious wooden interior. Like the large-footed chickens roaming freely in the garden, nobody's in an awful hurry. Still gotta keep half an eye on the clock, however, since Andy's off to practise his push shots in Woodbridge this afternoon. We agree that a shared slice of their banana loaf will set us up nicely, him to pong to pings and me to push some pedals. Final note: I decided to get my Boardman on the train back from Woodbridge and bumped into TT friend Steve, who'd done 50 miles in today's heat. I felt a bit weird at one stage, he said, and couldn't really speak. Mind that pesky sun, readers.

• Instagram -- Newbourne Kitchen

If it was a car -- Noble M15.
If they were passing by -- Nadia Sawalha.

Myself and Andy have been pinging pongs in the Ipswich & District Table Tennis League for over 30 years. Ain't often, however, that we attend the AGM. Thought we should rectify that this year what with one or two proposed changes. First, though, maybe get an early evening bite pre apologies for absence?

Ten minute bike ride for YT to the rear of the doing-well Anglia Retail Park (including a mandatory nifty nip up Whitton Lane and Fisk's Lane), home to The Range, Tim Hortons, my nearest Costa, plus some ancient standing stones. Facing KFC is a unit once home to the retro-named Carphone Warehouse and repurposed in 2024 as Ipswich's first Taco Bell, probably unconnected to the recent City of Culture bid. Bonus for me: unexpected Sheffield hoop bike stands right -- well, left -- outside the entrance. And here's Andy fresh from his eco VW.

My first time in one of Taco Bell's 8,000+ outlets. Not so, Andy, who'd visited one in the US of A three decades back. To make it easy for us, there's a row of flat screens to order, except we then struggled to switch from crunchy to soft despite our many combined years in IT. Another bonus: it's Taco Tuesday! One of those, please, then it's BOGOF. Add five "sweet habaneros chicken tenders" and some fries to share (though mostly for me). Plenty o' salt there so I'll take a Mountain Dew -- in a bottle -- and Andy an empty cup, giving him a choice of:

• Pepsi Max
• Pepsi Diet
• Pepsi Max Cherry
• 7 Up
• Robinsons Apple & Blackcurrant
• Lipton Peach Ice Tea
• Tango Orange
• Tango Apple

Note no Coke in sight since Taco Bell was bought by PepsiCo when I was at school.

Booth for the two of us, a good spot to watch the many people of the town coming and going and sometimes grabbing a table, and to enjoy our fast food. Does a job: those tacos were tiny and gone in a couple of bites. but the chicken bits were tasty if messy. Decent fries, too, and no doubt part of my five-a-day. Prepared me perfectly for the peevish and petulant ping-pong proceedings.

If it was a car -- Bell Model 17.
If they were passing by -- Geiovani dos Santos.

A mahoosive "Coming soon" sign appeared in October 2025 in the BP garage forecourt (unleaded price was then 133.9) down the road from where I work: four stylized capital letters bookended by red stars with images of a flat white, a croissant and a baguette. Was I bothered? Heck yeah!

So it came to pass that in early December 2026, the latest Pret A Manger -- organic coffee, freshly made food -- opened its doors, only the second branch in Suffolk. First and only branch until now is at the Barton Mills Fiveways Roundabout on the A11 which I very much felt the need to visit last year. Wee bit underwhelming, honestly, since it was squeezed into an Esso garage with no seats of its own. Martlesham, though, has seating both inside and out.

Me and Andy are inside today: he hasn't been here before but I've already been plenty o' times for their excellent Too Good To Go deals (see earlier). I'd actually been here on my way home the previous day to grab a much-reduced bite to eat prior to Project Hail Mary at Cineworld: greatly enjoyed my mini ham baguette with gherkins pre-Gosling. Best deal available when eating in is the £7 meal deal: that'll be mine with the everyday triple sandwich, a bag of plain crisps and a cranberry and raspberry and pomegranate water. Not healthy enough for Andy, he says, so he grabs the attractively presented falafel & hummus bowl. Ain't cheap -- we're a long way from Greggs -- but it's good stuff, methinks.

Strangely busy out there with the fuellers fuelling up with fuel. Tesco's run out of petrol, says Andy, hence the queues (unleaded price now 152.9). Hormuz aside, time for us to move on to sweeter subjects. Quality pain au raisin and latte as per: when it's this good, even I don't mind paying the price. Idling over our treats, there's a steady stream of takeaways. After all, Martlesham is the new town centre. Shame that Pret didn't claim that prime spot in the actual town centre (though Jamaica Blue are doing a fine job) but I'm glad they're here. Get well met at Pret.

If it was a car -- Ton Pret Ferrari Art Car.
If they were passing by -- Pixie Geldof.

Peck of lunch with what's-his-face? Hasn't happened in an organised capacity for a mighty long time, and certainly not in this Year of the Horse. Today, Friday 13th, however, is lookin' lucky: plans are ahoy. I proposed a mutually convenient venue to which Andy's Siri-dictated reply said:

It's perfect. See you then he's scared he's injured. He's on the run and he lacks legitimacy. It's a mess for them who is in charge.

Norman Schwarzkopf: remember him? US general all over the Gulf War, of which another's recently kicked off. Andy claimed that his reply was overheard from a BBC R4 discussion (in his motor) about the depleted Iran leadership. Mebbe.

Hines-sight tells us that we first visited a Gregg's branch in Ipswich around 15 years ago, I guess when that was the only one. Not now with all these yum-yums:

• centre -- 51 Westgate Street, as seen in 2011
• centre -- Upper Brook Street
• railway station
• out of town -- Rosehill Centre
• out of town -- Woodbridge Road East
• out of town -- White House Road
• out of town -- Futura Park, today
• A-road -- Wherstead Services
• A-road -- Sproughton Services

Isaacs was a blur as I whizzed round the waterfront on two wheels and up through Holywells Park on my way to Waitrose. Well, directly opposite The Big W in what used be yet another Costa until 2022 and where my mum once saw Dr Dan Poulter. Shame there's no WiFi for my work laptop -- gotta fall back on the iPhone hotspot -- but there's compensation in the audio form of Magic FM with Phil Collins providing some 80s bangers.

House specials include the marvellous £5 meal deal with main plus side plus drink, folks. Two of them, SVP: Andy with the southern fried chicken baguette (warmed) and yoghurt (carbs) and apple juice, and me with the tandoori chicken baguette (cold) and Walker's prawn cocktail and OJ. Total price £10.50 to eat in, a stone cold bargain. Busy-busy in here, what with Gregg's being the great leveller, from a woman talking about the size of her new kitchen to a hi-vis bloke checking his emails. The grub's exactly what you'd expect: does a job, like what I"m meant to be doing for the rest of the afternoon. Let's discuss Andy's squirrel problem another day.

If it was a car -- The Sausage Roller Suzuki Wagon by Joe James.
If they were passing by -- Gregory Soros.