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.