The choice of restaurant to end the hard lockdown phase and celebrate the beginning of the end of the quarantine (*knocks on wood*) was quite prosaic. Turns out I had a huge craving for a well-served pizza, after a few disappointing experiences at trendy places which were all about the dough while severely neglecting the toppings. So, Pizza Express it was.

Our local branch was still closed, so we plumped for Ipswich, Suffolk’s county town, boasting some interesting historic buildings and a marina where boats and pedalos navigate the Orwell River bordered by a very pleasant promenade, dotted with restaurants and cafés.

It was a beautiful day, the fried polenta strips were delicious, the beer was cold, and having a real espresso after four months of instant coffee was glorious. We walked off lunch with a stroll around the neighbourhood, had a smoothie at Kaspas and a scolding from an old lady because we were apparently sitting on the steps of some museum’s emergency exit. We were a bit miffed but promptly left, only for me to look back 100 steps later and find a bunch of cackling teenagers sitting on the very same steps we were shooed from, with the very same lady happily standing behind them.

Excuuuuuse me? I turned on my heels, salivating for blood; but as if guessing my violent intentions the woman disappeared inside the huge wooden doors. I was curious to know why was my bum so unworthy, but not enough to pay for admission to NOAH’S ARK BIBLE MUSEUM. Well, maybe next time.