End of the working week that saw a mini May heatwave. With no driver, hopped on two wheels and scooted down The Street (hello Red Lion), then Top Street, and up a zigzagging footpath to the roundabout where the B1438 meets the A12. Yep, that A12. Gripped handlebars tightly, closed eyes and didn't reopen them until we'd parked & locked by the buggies and the shoe valet. It's tee time at Seckford Golf Club.

Would have chosen outdoor seating but seemingly not enough parasols to go around on The Terrace. No problem: plenty of space in the light, airy and affluently vibed interior. Liked the simple black & white printed menu. CSO: Counter Service Only. Eye caught by the daily specials. That'll be two chicken caesar wraps, if you'd be so kind.

Sipped, chatted, tried to work out the relationships at other tables, and waited. Thought our order had been lost in a bunker when finally our two plates emerged. Now, on these Friday trips, it's rare for the food to speak for itself: step forward the Waterfront and the Oaks. But this is good golf grub. Full of taste, imaginative side salad, well presented ... and, surprisingly good value too. Who'd have thought?

Cleared plates and found that some ladies had lunched and left. Took terrace table for a kicking latte and a gooey wodge of carrot cake while gazing at the landscaped first few holes. Somewhere in the 1:30pm haze could be seen the otherwordly Adastral Park radio tower, a reassuring distance away. Sorry to leave and face cutting across both lanes of a major trunk road.

If it was a car -- Lexus SC.
If they were passing by -- Gary Lineker.

Sun's out, all the time in the world and the kids are sixty-five miles away. Headley & Mellenkamp book to hand, let's go folly hunting in North Norfolk.

Destination 1: Belle Vue Tower, a five storey circular beast near Briningham on the binary B1110. Surely not hard to spot. Fail to spot it. Ask directions from a friendly couple out for a walk, and the chap points to a silo-like building in the middle distance. Follow his "back to the main road" advice and park on a track to take a closer look. Brick body, wooden viewpoint on top. Somewhat put off by the Strictly Private: Guard Dog sign. Obviously privately owned, alas.

Destination 2: Randall's Folly, aka The Rocket House. Parked by Salthouse beach, avoiding the trendies grabbing their takeaway lobster from Cookies Crab Shop. Good news is that there's a resourceful fella selling proper coffee from the back of his van. Bad news is that we're over 50 years too late to view the unique sounding folly built by one Onisipheros Randall to entertain his lady friends: it was swept away by the 1953 floods. Darn.

Destination 3: Leicester Monument and the Obelisk at Holkham Hall. Had seen something poking its head out of the trees on the walk back from Wells. That something turned out to be the 37m tall cow-laden edifice to Thomas Coke, 1st Earl Of Leicester, and a dab hand in animal husbandry. Each of the four plinths has an inscription:

• small in size but great in value
• live and let live
• the improvement of agriculture
• breeding in all its branches (my favourite)

Head back past the perfectly symmetrical Hall, saying hello to the sculptured chap and dog on his bench, and you'll find the perfectly aligned Obelisk. Big needle, points straight up into the big blue sky, no inscription required.

Well earned cuppa and a scone in the stable block cafe. Gift shop was selling various "exclusive giftware" including a series of mugs hailing Heroes of Norfolk. Nelson, of course, plus Coke Of Norfolk and Elizabeth Fry. Even money that future road signs will be welcoming the careful-driving motorist to Fry's County. That'd be another local boy made good, Mr Stephen Fry.

We set off into the eye of the storm at 12:20 today, determined to nail one of the last remaining coffee shops in Felixstowe despite the donner und blitzen. Plus it's now safe to walk the streets down there once more now that the lost-and-found bomb has finally gone orf. Sound the all-clear.

Sunny by the time we strode down South Hill and into the Corner House Cafe, not to be confused with its mirror image over the road, The Conservatory. Talking of which, kinda, the CHC has a mighty white megalith of a mirror on its far wall giving the impression of lots of space, or some sort of weird Frangipani-style double seating area. Attractive old clock on the wall, too. And a sign advising customers not to rearrange the chairs, thank you very much.

Had our pick of the tables initially, the serving staff poised like poised people ready to pounce on our orders. Shortly after, more punters came & went. Various brekkies to be had, soup, jackets, and mini versions of most items for tinies. Don't want chips, have the mash instead: they're flexible. Chose a brown bread sandwich: perm any two fillings from fried egg or sausage or bacon. Adorn with squeezy sauce. Result. Wot no leaves or crisps or melon chunk on the side?

While Andy did for his ham/egg/chips and Grenvyle cleared his haddock, my eyes wandered to the home baked goodies. Pleasantly full after a generous slice of choc cake and a well-presented latte, the coffee gently undulating, not unlike a lava lamp, at the bottom of its tall glass. Restful and yet highly caffeinated. Did I mention they're closed on Fridays?

If it was a car -- Mercedes-Benz A-Class.
If they were passing by -- Ruth Jones.

It had to end. Our magnificent one game unbeaten run in the 2007/2008 Knock Out Cup has come to an end, leaving us free to concentrate on the league. Which we won, ha!

Up against it from the start, tonight's opponents from Trimley having finished runners-up in the Premier Division: gulp. Our handicap -- apart from Grenvyle in the team (copyright cheapgags.com) -- meant that if they won a game 21-9, the adjusted points would be level. Not the best of starts when G. went down 21-2 in the opening game.

Didn't really get a lot better for us as the evening wore on and the points ebbed away. Then their third "weak" player turned up and proceeded to hit the ball about as hard as anyone I've ever seen.

Still, Andy had one or two terrific purple patches of play, and big G. put away the odd quality backhand too. I kept on spinning and felt pretty drained after each defeat. Doesn't sound like much fun, but it was.

Sunday chores: dump dead dance mat, recycle green glass, reaffix homespun latch to gate, fail to fix loo seat that won't stay up, and walk dog The Boy & his friend. Fire up some Particle Man in the motor and point the wheels at Woodbridge. specifically Kingston Field, home to The Pavilion.

Competitive Dad guides young 'uns to the mini five-a-side pitch for (i) a penalty shoot-out, casting himself as Laurie Sivell from the 1975/76 Topps sticker collection, then (ii) corner practice, encouraging the chaps to "hit it first time". Lionel Messi started out this way, almost certainly.

Just gone twenty to five -- Battle Of Edgehill time, if you like -- dragged 'em back to their seat belts for the short drive into town. One thought is dominant: Dad Needs A Cup Of Coffee. Before the outbreak of the Great Northern War, gotta reach the chain coffee shop whose name is an anagram of:

• a Puccini opera,
• a Berkshire racecourse,
• and a place in Pratt County, Kansas

Drove, parked, sprinted into Costa to find girl mopping floor and nearly all chairs on tables. Aaargh! Fear not, she reassures, we're still open. Fur-yew. No free shot today but the serving area is bedecked with cakes. I tentatively ask: are these going spare? Er, yep, she says: what would you like?

Agog, awestruck, gobsmacked, I meekly point to a triple chocolate muffin each for The Boys, and a slice of carrot cake -- make that two slices! -- for me, ta very much. Patisserie paydirt.

Following closely on from our 2007 tour of Woodbridge coffee shops, we reprogrammed the SatNav -- Grenvyle's red Rover -- to Felixstowe. Danger UXB! They've got sea, they've got stones and they've got stacks of all-day breakfast sarnies.

Andy's done his best to maintain his official map of Felixstowe cafes.

To date reviews are as listed:

• The Alex
• Bakers Oven
• Bonnet Coffee & Tea House
• Cafe 7
• Cafe Libra
• Cliff Top Tea Rooms
• Coffee Shop
• Comptons
• Corner House Cafe
• The Conservatory
• Crow's Nest
• Family Cafe
• Ferry Cafe
• Froffee Coffee
• Hamiltons
• Jackie's Coffee Shop
• Joe Crowley's
• Leisure Centre Cafe
• The Little Ice Cream Co.
• Mrs Simpson's Tea Rooms
• Oaks Tea Room
• Orwell Fisheries
• Regal
• River Of Life
• Spa Pavilion
• Tchibo
• Tea & Antiques

James Bond will return in For Your Eyes Only.

It's a sure sign you're turning into your parents when you find yourself having a spot of light lunch at the local garden centre; and with the Felixstowe eateries all but done, a trip to the skirts of Woodbridge seemed in order. Welcome to Wyevale, one of only ... er, 100 or so such places in the country. Practically unique (i.e. one of seven) within the greater East Anglia area.

Within the seemingly ever-expanding green-fingered enclave, turn left past the half-price orchids and bargain books to enter The Conservatory. Woah, hold on there: isn't this Springles from the Ashes To Ashes era of Debenhams? Take a tray, slide it round the rails, hop the gaps, you get the picture. Obliged to mention the gamut of cold soft drinks, from Fruit Shoot to Luscombe to my bottlegreen blackcurrant & blueberry presse.

Food choice is nearly overwhelming: all bases covered from peckish sarnies to gutsy full roast meals. Dimly recalling that "light lunch" tag, I eventually chose a chicken & bacon granary bap. Freshly made and with a handful of leaves on the side. Tad overpriced at £4.79, IMHO, but the prices weren't deterring the polyester-clad punters from their plates of turkey & ham pie piled high with roasties and smothered with gravy.

Chop chop busy busy inside so out we went into a pleasant seating area to feel the warmth of the sun. Not quite as bright as the River Of Life though similarly urban what with the over-the-hedge A12. Briefly back in to purchase pudd in the guise of a pretty good scone -- love those little pots of jam -- and a frankly awful cuppa coffee. Evidently the nice girl had pressed the button labelled "lukewarm brown water". If you check out the Wyevale careers website, you too could soon be playing a vital role in a "high volume catering outlet".

If it was a car -- Volkswagen Sharan.
If they were passing by -- John Shuttleworth.