Don't hassle Amy Pond's daughter. Don't upset David Cartwright's grandson. And don't irritate the young Indiana Jones. For Jimmy Cliff was right: there are, to be sure, many rivers to cross.

Andy's fresh from his physio and all the better for his recently acquired massage gun, plus he's nabbed free waterfront parking on a secret side street. He's already slurping from a cold can when I walk in to the magnificent setting of St Mary-at-the-Quay, recently refurbed and looking not unlike St Stephen's; in fact there's a stage with a mic & keyboard all ready for Andy's one-man Erasure tribute act. For the last couple of years it's been home to the River Church, "an HTB network church plant" (?) who've been going from strength to strength and who've now expanded the brand with River Coffee.

Their menu is understandably limited at present so that'll be all the savoury options, please, namely sausage roll and steak slice and two bags of Pipers crisps (and a rhubarb Cawston's). Guy behind the counter is all smiles and doesn't try to upsell us on the Alpha course. We've got our pick of the comfy styling grey seats all under that stunning roof, and that background poppy music adds to the ambience. Seems like a lifetime ago that we lunched in St Lawrence, very much still open for business.

Good to see some other folk in here, this site being awkwardly placed 'twixt town centre and the dock. Just desserts left: both remaining slices of apple cake, ta v. much, and an affogato for Andy, throwing me back to Bawdsey. Helpful guy brings over the ice-cream scoop to our table then pours the espresso over it from a dainty glass receptacle; top service, there. All good, with River Church T-shirts and tote bags for sale, and good for the soul too.

If it was a car -- Lady Gaga's vintage blood red Rolls Royce
If they were passing by -- Rev Richard Coles.