A mahoosive "Coming soon" sign appeared in October 2025 in the BP garage forecourt (unleaded price was then 133.9) down the road from where I work: four stylized capital letters bookended by red stars with images of a flat white, a croissant and a baguette. Was I bothered? Heck yeah!

So it came to pass that in early December 2026, the latest Pret A Manger -- organic coffee, freshly made food -- opened its doors, only the second branch in Suffolk. First and only branch until now is at the Barton Mills Fiveways Roundabout on the A11 which I very much felt the need to visit last year. Wee bit underwhelming, honestly, since it was squeezed into an Esso garage with no seats of its own. Martlesham, though, has seating both inside and out.

Me and Andy are inside today: he hasn't been here before but I've already been plenty o' times for their excellent Too Good To Go deals (see earlier). I'd actually been here on my way home the previous day to grab a much-reduced bite to eat prior to Project Hail Mary at Cineworld: greatly enjoyed my mini ham baguette with gherkins pre-Gosling. Best deal available when eating in is the £7 meal deal: that'll be mine with the everyday triple sandwich, a bag of plain crisps and a cranberry and raspberry and pomegranate water. Not healthy enough for Andy, he says, so he grabs the attractively presented falafel & hummus bowl. Ain't cheap -- we're a long way from Greggs -- but it's good stuff, methinks.

Strangely busy out there with the fuellers fuelling up with fuel. Tesco's run out of petrol, says Andy, hence the queues (unleaded price now 152.9). Hormuz aside, time for us to move on to sweeter subjects. Quality pain au raisin and latte as per: when it's this good, even I don't mind paying the price. Idling over our treats, there's a steady stream of takeaways. After all, Martlesham is the new town centre. Shame that Pret didn't claim that prime spot in the actual town centre (though Jamaica Blue are doing a fine job) but I'm glad they're here. Get well met at Pret.

If it was a car -- Ton Pret Ferrari Art Car.
If they were passing by -- Pixie Geldof.

Peck of lunch with what's-his-face? Hasn't happened in an organised capacity for a mighty long time, and certainly not in this Year of the Horse. Today, Friday 13th, however, is lookin' lucky: plans are ahoy. I proposed a mutually convenient venue to which Andy's Siri-dictated reply said:

It's perfect. See you then he's scared he's injured. He's on the run and he lacks legitimacy. It's a mess for them who is in charge.

Norman Schwarzkopf: remember him? US general all over the Gulf War, of which another's recently kicked off. Andy claimed that his reply was overheard from a BBC R4 discussion (in his motor) about the depleted Iran leadership. Mebbe.

Hines-sight tells us that we first visited a Gregg's branch in Ipswich around 15 years ago, I guess when that was the only one. Not now with all these yum-yums:

• centre -- 51 Westgate Street, as seen in 2011
• centre -- Upper Brook Street
• railway station
• out of town -- Rosehill Centre
• out of town -- Woodbridge Road East
• out of town -- White House Road
• out of town -- Futura Park, today
• A-road -- Wherstead Services
• A-road -- Sproughton Services

Isaacs was a blur as I whizzed round the waterfront on two wheels and up through Holywells Park on my way to Waitrose. Well, directly opposite The Big W in what used be yet another Costa until 2022 and where my mum once saw Dr Dan Poulter. Shame there's no WiFi for my work laptop -- gotta fall back on the iPhone hotspot -- but there's compensation in the audio form of Magic FM with Phil Collins providing some 80s bangers.

House specials include the marvellous £5 meal deal with main plus side plus drink, folks. Two of them, SVP: Andy with the southern fried chicken baguette (warmed) and yoghurt (carbs) and apple juice, and me with the tandoori chicken baguette (cold) and Walker's prawn cocktail and OJ. Total price £10.50 to eat in, a stone cold bargain. Busy-busy in here, what with Gregg's being the great leveller, from a woman talking about the size of her new kitchen to a hi-vis bloke checking his emails. The grub's exactly what you'd expect: does a job, like what I"m meant to be doing for the rest of the afternoon. Let's discuss Andy's squirrel problem another day.

If it was a car -- The Sausage Roller Suzuki Wagon by Joe James.
If they were passing by -- Gregory Soros.

By the skate park
Take a walk past Tony Hawk
To mark the stones
Deployed like props from Game of Thrones

Emerging dripping from the Gipping long ago
Ten feet tall and trickling tears
These sarsens had been pickling down below
For 60 million years

Formed by forces sedimentary
Rugged, rough, and rudimentary
The rocks are marred with crude graffiti
But really hard like Kevin Beattie

— Ipswich winter solstice entries for 2025 | 2024 | 2023 | 2022 | 2021

Remember, remember, the 5th of December, five years ago, 2020?
Never dreamed it would close
Our Little Waitrose
Adored by the 'Swich cognoscenti.

In a long distant era -- way before Keira -- every weekend I'd head out
Doing circuits like Senna
Aware that my tenner
Would get me a Guardian for nowt.

With much talk of Brexit, they made a sharp exit
Life in the time of the Covid.
Deemed a lost cause
"We'll be closing our doors"
Well, everything changes, said Ovid.

Right, I thought, I did those extra hours on Wednesday so I'll take the afternoon off on Thursday: nice nice nice. Made a mental plan to sign off at 1pm, meet Andy for lunch nearby, then bike over to Woodbridge and occupy a warm seat in another cafe for a couple of hours, staring into the distance. I know just the place, I told Andy. Four minutes before hitting shutdown, 12:56, he texted to say "I'm inside table one see you soon". Sort-ed.

Place opened a few months back, I'd told him, as mentioned on the local BBC news; just hope they're still going. I reached 21 Young Hearts about 13:05, and there were signs of life everywhere: in fact, said Andy, speaking between mouthfuls of meaty bap, it was packed when he arrived. Which is all very lovely 'cos they're doing great work here with their mission "to empower young individuals with disabilities by providing them with meaningful employment opportunities" (bit like the old Town Hall Tea Room and the St Lawrence centre to name but two).

Star of the show is young Kyle who's not only splashed over the front window but humble enough to chalk up my sausage & bacon bap, banana Yazoo and bag of sea salt crisps. Cheers, fella. We're right next to Duncans Bakery, BTW, where I note we had very similar all-day breakfast lunches way back in 2011. Inside is abuzz. Seems like they've already established the community hub they'd hoped for.

There's a tip-top selection of sweet treats including puffy mince pies, Christmas gingerbread, lemon drizzle loaf, funfetti (!) cookies, carrot cake, and Victoria sponge. Top-left, though, is shouting out to me: it's the Old School Cake, a slab o' sponge with white icing covered with 100s & 1000s. Yes, please! With no chai latte available, Andy joins me in a flat white but of the decaf variety, unlike mine. Window lettering reads "Good Coffee / Great People / Big Hearts". Amen to that.

If it was a car -- Danacol Heart Car.
If they were passing by -- Candi Staton.

Would be a nice change for Andy the motorist, I reflected, if I could find an unvisited lunch spot in The 'Swich with free parking and minimal walk, especially since the very rainiest rain was forecast. No, that's inaccurate and paints me in a rose-hued light. Was actually Andy himself who requested "easy parking to avoid the rain". Memory, eh? I can smile at the old days.

But definitely my suggestion to head into the Bird Cage (as we used to call it in the CB days). I was on the two wheels, of course, and cycled past long gone Gwydyr Road to the site of the old Royal Showground to arrive around 2:20pm. Gosh, these lunches have got later and later lately. My four-wheeled companion beat me by a couple of mins and was visible in the window of Cafe Chantry -- classy curly lettering -- where the old newsagent used to live. Note that we'd been here back in September 2024 when it was called Barla's: never written up since it was due a major refurb, though the poached eggs were good.

More or less got the place to ourselves, given the weird time. Not a problem. Signage out front talks of Breakfast-Lunch-Dinner (left) and Panini-Baguettes-Sandwiches (right). From the suspiciously length menu we go for egg/bacon/chips/beans, my occasional treat, and sausage & bacon panini, neither of us obviously concerned for our health. May as well have the fizz too, the decaf Rio for him, the medicinally recommended Dr Pepper for me.

Five minutes to admire the greenery pinned to the wall and the illustrated images of London then here's our plates o' fuel: oh yes. Super friendly service, smiles all round, and more than happy to fetch him a slab of choc fudge and me a lump of carrot cake, 'cos YOLO. Swirly choc sauce a nice touch. And, as per our previous visit, my flat white was excellent. I'll be going back.

If it was a car -- Nissan Bluebird.
If they were passing by -- Tony Hawk.

"Got a table," I texted Andy at 14:31 on a nondescript Friday afternoon. He's recently returned from Sweden where he was scanned good & proper a full year after his big stem cell op. There's more patches of red and yellow on the images he shows me, and that augurs well, though it didn't help him locate the new caff directly opposite The Regent.

Gave him a menu and told him I'd pre-ordered the £35 Cataplana a Algarvia, aka the seafood stew. Not really, I said. Laminated sheet before us doesn't have a sarnie in sight. Transpires that Golden Coffee is perhaps more for those with a bit of an appetite, offering a choice of peixe (fish), carne (meat) and burgers & omelettes (you do the translation). We're very much in the Ipswichian part of the Iberian peninsula. He goes for the francesinha while I opt for cheese & ham omelette: let's share.

Ten years back we sampled the lunchtime delights of Flavours Of Portugal at number 4, St Helen's Street. Now, with the demise of Masons Estate Agents on the corner, and very much in the spirit of Vasco da Gama, they've expanded their empire. Kitchen's on one side, half a dozen tables are on the other, and I've landed a dream spot right under the big telly: yes, they're happy to turn it down, no problem.

Here's my plate-sized omelette and some fluffy crinkle (not crankle) cut chips, and here's his mega-bowl comprising a toasted sausage & steak sandwich in some sort of sauce encircled by his own portion of fries. He's trying to cut it in half, hacking his way through like Henry Morton Stanley, and has just about finished when the lady appears with a sharp knife. You like food? she asks. Is from northern Portugal. Yes, we say, very good. I'm well aware of my 4pm appointment at the dental hygienist: travel toothbrush is in my tote. Decent espresso to finish, and we are absolutely finished.

If it was a car -- UMM Alter 2000.
If they were passing by -- Nelly Furtado.