EDitorial ± 18-May-2014

130Story: Spike / Brave / Lean / Button / Crop

The rules of 130Story are simple: given a random seed word, write a story in 130 characters.






More to follow.

EDitorial ± 15-May-2014

Light Lunches: Stables Coffee Shop, Brightwell Barns

I took my parents to the tip. They're getting on a bit, as they'd be the first to admit, and it seemed like the right thing to do. There, I put the green waste in the green skip, the old boiler in the scrap metal container, and the old iron -- not just any old iron -- among the discarded small appliances. Ma & Pa and two kids remained in the car, safely belted up.

From Foxhall Road to the friendly family Cumberland Fish Bar, I thought we'd take the Grande Scenic route round the back of the old BT Labs past the non-savoury Moon & Sixpence. Down there is the ever reliable Holeshot, aka the bus cafe. That was when I nearly failed to steer us around the corner. Yonder, clear as Clearasil, was a Brand New Cafe at Brightwell Barns. Later that week, once more reduced to two wheels each, let's hit those barn doors.

Apart from the odd car racing by along Brightwell Road, 'tis a luminous day to be in the saddle, ahoy-Hoy. These here barns, we learn, offer a green way to run your small business. Part of the attraction is the resident eatery. Not a cafe, apparently, 'cos that implies frying which bumps up the insurance, but a coffee shop, griddling permitted. Place has only been open a month or so hence they're still finding those appendages which fit in their shoes.

Inside is a bunch of plain and simple wooden tables, similar to Lux Farm, with quirky cow art on the walls. We've missed breakfast -- that was up to 11am -- and now it's sarnies, toasties and jackets. Meal deal for Mr Froome: pre-wrapped tuna & sweetcorn and sweet chilli crisps and a tropical Fruitburst. Bacon bap for Mr Wiggins. More than obliged to mention the light (and light breeze) flooding in through the sliding doors, all most pleasant and a million GoogleMaps miles from Boss Hoggs. Savoury goodies inside on the couch, flicking through Let's Talk and Suffolk mags, then the gents will retire to the decking for the sweet course.

Outside, overlooking the pond and assorted arty animal sculptures, there ain't a care in the world. Helps to have a vg Deep Mills latte to hand, plus a slice of handmade lemon drizzle or a cappucino slice, say. Puts a chap in a dashed good mode, what? We'll deffo be biking to the barns again.

If it was a car -- Doretti.
If they were passing by -- John Berlyne.

EDitorial ± 11-May-2014

130Story: Star / Metal / Music / Brew

The rules of 130Story are simple: given a random seed word, write a story in 130 characters.





More to follow.

EDitorial ± 4-May-2014

130Story: Boost / May / Addiction / Keyword / Market

The rules of 130Story are simple: given a random seed word, write a story in 130 characters.






More to follow.

EDitorial ± 2-May-2014

Ipswich Lunches: Wigglywoo's Craft Emporium

Remains of a 10th century church. Over 300 graves. Evidence of leprosy. There is both life and death on the Ipswich waterfront. Around Stoke Quay and Great Whip Street at the mo' is one mahoosive building site. It's going to be like something out of Poltergeist for the lucky inhabitants of these new flats, living on top of those burial mounds. Are they here? They're here, alright.

Head inland one more road and you'll find Gower Street, in which locale our Andy -- with eagle eyes that actually move -- has spotted a new eatery. There's a doorway, perhaps a mystic portal, near the old Silver Star pub, though we're parked by the back door among the industrial units. Full name of this place, if you're ready, is Wigglywoo's Craft Emporium. Combine (a) Mr Ranks and (b) Nile Rodgers and you'd arrive at WCE's USP, i.e. shabby chic. Sitting square and centre among the cards and candles are some chairs and tables handmade for ourselves.

It's East Coast Quilting all over again, since aside from a small pack of Ritz biscuits, there's no savoury items: cue John Shuttleworth's Can't Go Back song. Like the dressers surrounding us, we're distinctly distressed. Adapting quickly, we order coffee and cake, like that could ever hope to make up for it, narf. Iced Victoria sponge more than does the job, and that's a half-decent latte too. Lady says they're getting some healthy hot beverage trade from all the hard-hats in the vicinity. Meantime, Andy, being Andy, is enquiring about the fabric workshops.

Putting some yards between us and all those precious items, us men need protein. Along Stoke Quay, right at Dingus Khan's Steamboat and past Tastyfill in the maltings takes us up to the end of Bulstrode Road. Behold, Best Burger! Mr Wimpy is sitting in his car 'cos it's too chilly in the van, but happily steps back inside to prep us some bacon rolls. Salad? Yep. Cheese. Yep. BBQ sauce? Why the heckington not? Return to the car for our hot 'n' meaty eats and we're transported back some six years to an outing with Grenvyle to The Bounty, where we took our fish 'n' chips down to the Felixstowe docks viewpoint (long before the View Point Cafe). No distant waves or monolithic container ships visible through the windscreen today. Purely the unalloyed joy of the A137 sweeping majestically past Uncle Tom's Cabin. Larkin could have penned a verse about this very view. Really good bacon rolls, too.

If it was a car -- Caterham 21.
If they were passing by -- Neil Buchanan.