Grateful for a murky Friday due to my popping pupils, still wildly dilated after more indeterminate tests up at the eye-eye department. Best not to be cycling with one eye shut and the other open only a slit to let in as little light as possible. Sound idea to stick to the back roads en route to work.

How squintingly super, then, to be sitting on the shiny new Felixstowe pier, home of the shiny new Boardwalk. Arrived here through the 2017 grabbers and slots and bowling. Quick peek out back reveals that there ain't no End Of The Pier show. Flash fittings, all portholes and mirrors, will be paid off by these pub prices. Despite most dishes being a tenner or more, the place is chop chop busy busy.

Me and Andy, drifters both, order all the goujons inside then seek outside seating, of which there's plenty. Niftily, a set of tables is protected from the East Coast wind by a glass partition. Annoyingly, those are all taken. After five minutes being blown about and still trying to shield my ocular nerves, we head back through the swish automatic door.

Given our simple order, the grub takes an age to arrive. Nicely done, though, when it finally emerges, fresh with tangy tartare and crispy leaves, and all the staff are friendly and courteous, which is nice. Think there was sweetstuff to be had but not by us today, what with the time and heading back to work and all. Very good Paddy & Scott's double shot takeaway latte, though. Not the full cakewalk, the Boardwalk, but you'll be havin' some fun.

If it was a car -- Studebaker Lark.
If they were passing by -- Daniel Bowen-Smith.