Sun's out after a damp start, it's 12:15pm on a Friday, and where's our driver? Been ordered to work from home: bloomin' doctors. Up to me and Andy to form a petit peloton, pushing past Landypart along a soggy Sandy Lane into Woodbridge. Not Notcutts, but dead opposite into the Cherry Tree. Yeah, I know it's a pub, but pedallers can't be choosers.

There's a duet of Sheffield stands for the horses, and in we go to a busy-ish beamed bar. I'm already impressed by the free WiFi plus the range of soft drinks, salty snacks (scampi fries!) and choccy bars on display. Given some menus, we take a free table and you can't help but notice a scattering of board games. More of that in a bit. Meantime, there's pages and pages of potential eats, a gamut of grub, a suspiciously extensive selection. What to have? Summat I've not had on any of our previous outings: the meatloaf. Should really have some B.O.O.H. reference here.

There's dominos, a Rubik's Cube, but it's my bright idea to challenge Andy to a lunchtime game of Scrabble (not allowed to play at home since The Incident). Orders placed, off we go and the tiles aren't with me. Me to start, and my first word, like so many before me, is POO. Which is poor without the "R". Thankfully the food arrives during the early stages. Very sociable to dine 'n' play. More-ish meatloaf and mash. Bob, I'll have some peas, please.

Now I'm convinced I'm way better with worms (thanks, Ronnie Barker) than my opponent. Nonetheless, he draws and places the biggies:

• the Q -- QUID on double word with Q on double letter
• the Z -- ZIT with Z on triple letter
• the X -- AXE on triple word
• the J -- JAW

All of which leaves me floundering like a flat fish on a salt flat. I claw back with HARSH on a triple word, pull one point ahead and still lose. Narrowly. Did I mind? Is the Pope German? Not to worry: good fun, good food and most hospitable.

If it was a car -- Citroen DS.
If they were passing by -- Clive Doig.