Three weeks on from our midweek junket to Maeve's when here comes another humpday hike. That was the best part of four miles in the saddle. Today's proposed outing is half that yet here's Ecocentric Andy to pick me up, door-to-door, and I won't say no. He's fresh from the physio after a recent blackout: did I mention that already?

Left at the second Ropes Drive roundabout, as navigated on my very own Tour Of Britain, to park at the midsize Tesco. Note that The Bean House has been and gone and is now an offshoot of Ocean Fish Platter. Andy used to have a well-used Brompton then sold it back to the original owner; he's now purchased another and gives me a brief W1A-style unfolding demo like a pro. Pedals pushed in, let's promenade over the guided busway to Hype, opened November 2023. Bring your own exclamation mark.

Inside is neon lettering and wooden boxes and timber shelves, basically a most welcoming space. Menu, like Hype's interior, is both compact and inviting. Nachos? Panini? Benedict? We both resemble Natalie Imbruglia in our decision making: finally it's the pancakes for me and the eggs/smashed avo/chilli flakes on toast for the driver. Haven't mentioned any soft-drink choices in a while: great selection here, Yazoo for him, Lipton for me. Grub was great, those Kansas pancakes more than comparable with those from the revamped Kesgrave Kitchen and that's some high praise.

With much talk of diabetes, something that both Andy and my mum have succumbed to, dessert was inevitable. At least we shared that fruit scone. With jam. And cream. Hopefully Mrs Andy, like the world in general, doesn't read these reviews. Of the couple sitting outside, Andy recognised the bloke and had a quick chat when we left, after which he still had no idea who it was. Need a recommendation? I've been back to eat twice. Believe the Hype.

If it was a car -- Bugatti EB110 hypercar.
If they were passing by -- John Turturro.

Chill February lunchtime to get on my bike and ride up and down Sandy Lane into the "beautiful and vibrant market town" that is Woodbridge. Had warmed up nicely at the peak before the descent past Notcutts and the Riverside then up to D-lock outside Caffe Nero. Talking of which, saw a guy donating his completed Nero loyalty card to the Big Issue woman on the Thoroughfare, a thoroughly fine act.

Past the Porsche and beyond the Two Magpies and the dead Browsers bookshop used to be the rather good Christine's. Not no more, mes braves, 'cos Maeve's has moved in. Lots of seating but nearly all of it taken so best I grab those two people-peeping window seats. I'm assessing the smashed avocados 'n' chickpeas or the salt beef sourdough or the bubble & squeak when Andy arrives. He promptly decides on the American pancakes or breakfast bagel and is promptly told that those items are only available up to 11:30am, sorry. Thinking on his feet, he opts for the chicken gyros; I'll take the £11 BLT, please. Food orders will take around 20 minutes, we're told: all good.

Decor features butterflies and generic coffee imagery and endeavours to promote fika (see The Milk Shed), essentially pastries and coffee, essentially me. That bacon and lettuce and tomato in toasted Harvey & Co sourdough was served with a classy slaw and justifies its cost, and those gyros go down well too. That name Maeve, by the way, is, I believe, the new owner's young daughter. I'd like to think she dresses in mauve.

Comfortably into the second half of the working week hence additional allowed time for a slice of mocha cake with a zippy cortado. Many are the cake options at Maeve's. Sugar levels restored, he's off to play ping-pong at the community centre while YT pushes off to the office. That BLT sustained me cycling up the Red Lion hill.

If it was a car -- TVR Sagaris with a Tavo Maeve small pet car seat.
If they were passing by -- Thelma Barlow.