I took my parents to the tip. They're getting on a bit, as they'd be the first to admit, and it seemed like the right thing to do. There, I put the green waste in the green skip, the old boiler in the scrap metal container, and the old iron -- not just any old iron -- among the discarded small appliances. Ma & Pa and two kids remained in the car, safely belted up.

From Foxhall Road to the friendly family Cumberland Fish Bar, I thought we'd take the Grande Scenic route round the back of the old BT Labs past the non-savoury Moon & Sixpence. Down there is the ever reliable Holeshot, aka the bus cafe. That was when I nearly failed to steer us around the corner. Yonder, clear as Clearasil, was a Brand New Cafe at Brightwell Barns. Later that week, once more reduced to two wheels each, let's hit those barn doors.

Apart from the odd car racing by along Brightwell Road, 'tis a luminous day to be in the saddle, ahoy-Hoy. These here barns, we learn, offer a green way to run your small business. Part of the attraction is the resident eatery. Not a cafe, apparently, 'cos that implies frying which bumps up the insurance, but a coffee shop, griddling permitted. Place has only been open a month or so hence they're still finding those appendages which fit in their shoes.

Inside is a bunch of plain and simple wooden tables, similar to Lux Farm, with quirky cow art on the walls. We've missed breakfast -- that was up to 11am -- and now it's sarnies, toasties and jackets. Meal deal for Mr Froome: pre-wrapped tuna & sweetcorn and sweet chilli crisps and a tropical Fruitburst. Bacon bap for Mr Wiggins. More than obliged to mention the light (and light breeze) flooding in through the sliding doors, all most pleasant and a million GoogleMaps miles from Boss Hoggs. Savoury goodies inside on the couch, flicking through Let's Talk and Suffolk mags, then the gents will retire to the decking for the sweet course.

Outside, overlooking the pond and assorted arty animal sculptures, there ain't a care in the world. Helps to have a vg Deep Mills latte to hand, plus a slice of handmade lemon drizzle or a cappucino slice, say. Puts a chap in a dashed good mode, what? We'll deffo be biking to the barns again.

If it was a car -- Doretti.
If they were passing by -- John Berlyne.