Late July and naturally the weather is foul: spitting when the Light Lunch Limo leaves Martlesham, showering when we enter the borough of Ipswich and simply stair rods when we alight. Our driver must have thought that HGV stood for HereBe Grenvyle's Vehicle (thanks, Andy) since that's the entrance he took. He's not one for convention.

It's an edifice of swell glass, is Glasswells. We're here on the promise of a £4.99 main meal and pudding offer in the local paper; we're evidently not the only ones as we stand in line at the Wait Here sign beneath lettering proclaiming this to be The Place To Eat... Drop that ellipsis, boys. There's a lot of tables and they're all taken. A-ha, someone's leaving, and we land a prime window seat, ideal for admiring (a) the rain and (b) others' parking skills. Busy busy, hence the 10 minute waitress wait. Niftily, she takes our orders using a wireless gizmo and a DS-type stylus: kewl. Or she could be playing Cooking Mama.

It's now as busy as it gets, I'd guess. Consider that:

• it's Friday,
• it's 1pm (nope, not Crackerjack),
• it's hammers and nails and cats and dogs outside,
• and it's the last day for the top-value voucher

Which is prob'ly why it takes our grub 25 minutes to appear. At least the lady is good enough to say sorry, and the chicken caesar salad (c/w anchovies, yum) is pretty good. Though, by that time, a plate of beans on toast would have done the job too. It's yet later when we order pudd: Eton Mess for one and all, please, like lunchtime at The Oaks. These also take a while giving the ideal moment to have a quick word with some oldie diners at the next table -- hello Dad, hello Mum (who provided an earlier review on these pages. 'Tis a small town, to be sure. Finally desserts materialise and are wolfed down.

Apparently Glasswells is also "the perfect place for furniture and furnishings". Food's OK too.

If it was a car -- Mercedes-Benz A-Class.
If they were passing by -- Ma & Pa Broom.