Sometimes I'm stuck waiting at home for a parcel. Or a man that can. Or temporarily discombobulated by an inner ear condition. Otherwise, in all of the weathers you'll find my legs going seventeen to the dozen along the A1214. Did I know, said a colleague, about the cafe that had opened in the nursery? That place for plants that I pass every single day. To my shame, no, I did not.

Another day, another thiry degrees or thereabouts, yet are we taking the cycle-bycles to the nearby-ish caff? Nope, we're in the dogs-die-in-hot-cars VW. World Cup fever is in the air and, after Germany's sudden exit, Kev's the first to crack that "don't mention the VAR" gag. Here's the coffee shop sign that I've totally failed to notice outside Kiln Farm. Up the drive past the scary scarecrows and Andy jokes about having his own disabled entrance. We're laughing now.

Shop to the right and, having just opened their cafe to the left, this is understandably a modest menu. We'll have every last savoury option available, please, that being a cheese scone per head and a selection of lowercase fairfields farm crisps in pleasing blue, green and yellow packets. Scrubbed pine tables but a Wee bit stuffy inside so outside under the gazebo for the three amigos, sipping chilled Cawston, Bottle Green and Fentimans. Ah. In the heat and the colour, a very different proposition than the Kesgrave Kitchen.

Decent cappuccino and a surprisingly fine slice of carrot cake too. None for athlete Andy, note. This cafe venture is being trialled at the moment. Wasn't prepared, when settling up, to be asked "What sort of things would you like to see on the menu?" Must have a ready answer next time.

If it was a car -- Kia Venga.
If they were passing by -- Kate Malone.