April 24th. Ipswich town centre. Today, in the sun, Andy's playing a runner named Francis 7 while I'm playing Logan 5. Worringly, our hand crystals have begun to blink red, which is why we need to outrun the sandmen (played by Roy Keane and his dogs) and seek Sanctuary off Cromwell Square. Follow?

This restaurant is relatively new and occupies most of an attractive glass atrium that's been melded onto the redundant St Nicholas church. As ever, consult the comprehensive Simon Knott for the full story. Andy had turned up to discover most tables had been reserved; we headed for some outside seating, peaceful among the gravestones. Some nice stuff on the menu, plus specials too. A friendly lady came to scribble down our order -- she sells sanctuary savouries -- and left us to sip ginger beer and contemplate our short span on Duran Duran's homeland.

Look up and you'll spy the utilitarian St Vincent House and the reclad Ipswich Central towerblock. Look down and you'll see a prawn, crayfish & tuna wrap, c/w well-dressed salad. That's quality. And there's a half-decent array of newspapers. And the breakfast sounds good. And it's buoyantly bustling inside there. And everything's Fairtrade. And there's lots of posters for a forthcoming gig by Ralph "Tickle On The Tum" McTell. Oh kay.

Time to pop back inside and peruse the coffee menu. Although neither's on the list, the nice lady's perfectly happy to produce both a mocha and a macchiato. Cake, must have cake: carrot, it is, and very good, like the coffee. Very little wrong with the world when you have a strong cuppa java, a big ol' slice of cake and you're sitting out in the sun idly chatting.

If it was a car -- Toyota Aygo with a fish on the back.
If they were passing by -- David Essex.