Let's 'fess up right from the get-go. This is a revisit so, like that endless argument you have with your other half about the proper way to load the dishwasher, we've been here before. When we first paid any 'tenhut to the Tea Hut way back in 2007, we were but callow youths belonging to a different age bracket. Why, then, the return?

The new owners have only gone and done a Fitzcarraldo and moved the entire blinkin' structure, crossing the pond (well, boating lake) like Concorde. It was on the far side. It's now on the near side, though you still have to risk life & limb walking across the railway line. Unless it's my imagination, there seems to be stacks more seating on the decking area. Busy, today, what with that miasma of incandescent plasma overhead, leaving me and Andy stuck around the side. No parasol, no matter with a cooling bottle of Fentimans or Frobishers. Bypassing the more obvious items on the bijou menu, we both go for salads. Chicken caesar -- fresh, meatily generous and reminiscent of long lost Carrot Cake -- and sideways Cromer crab. Woodbridge prices net you classy nosh.

Still a fair few tables inside as we go to peruse pudds. Extra points awarded too for mags and papers. Andy, in anticipation of the long bike ride home, chooses a cream tea. For me, thinking about Sandy Lane on two wheels, it has to be the carrot cake. Boy, it's good. Coffee's pretty decent too, though that cup in front of me doesn't resemble any flat white I've seen before. Hot and strong and Paddy & Scotts, though. Tip your hat to the Tea Hut. We'll be back in a few more years once the building makes its next stride towards the town centre.

If it was a car -- Nissan Figaro.
If they were passing by -- Ellen MacArthur.