That old Earth of ours has seen a dozen orbital periods (nine common years, three leap years) since the boy Andy proposed this whole light lunch shebang in 2007. We kicked off in ye olde Woodbridge, being ten minutes down the road from where we all worked, and quickly knocked off ten eateries in the first three months including Pickwicks (now the brilliant if hard to find Cooks Shed), Frangipani (now the Cumberland Fish Bar) and the Georgian Coffee House. Well, the Georgian era is over.

I'd stumbled across colourfully branded Drift a week earlier while coming out of the booky Emporium and had a rather good rocky road, hence today's meet-up. I'm first, place my order inside -- there's the conservatory -- and squeeze into an outside corner table. Sipping my cucumber and mint when Andy appears fresh from Aldeburgh. He's not sat down long when my grub appears, an offering from their "ultimate lunch" menu:

sausage pattie + smashed avocado + free-ranged fried egg + wild rocket served in our unique black brioche bun

Marmite in appearance -- I decide to love it -- due to that black-as-your-hat bun. But oh man, that combination of meat & egg & greens all within a dark crunch. Most original thing I've had to eat in a while, an opinion I happily share with the couple at the next table. Who, it transpires, are pleased to hear this being the happy owners of this establishment. They're less delighted to hear that Andy's still waiting for his savoury, the house Scotch egg, after ten minutes. Bad timing for the staff who didn't write it down. Oops.

Which is how we both received exemplary service for the rest of our time sat there in the shade, taking receipt of unending apologies backed up by free coffee and cake. Ain't no fun being on the other side of the counter. Who'd give you complimentary goodies if they mucked up your order? Drift would.

If it was a car -- Nissan 240SX.
If they were passing by -- Fran Healy.