It’s true to say that ABBA can sometimes play a big part in our house, and although I consider myself a fairly comprehensive fan, there was still one musical part of the fab four’s story that was missing – the ‘80s musical Chess. With music by Benny and Björn, and lyrics by Tim Rice, it’s often lauded with praise as much as the group’s classic happy and tragic songs. So, on Thursday night, we experienced the missing piece of our ABBA jigsaw at the Cliffs Pavillion, perched high above the sea at Westcliff.

Craig Revel-Horwood of Strictly Come Dancing fame has staged the latest version, and we enjoyed his spin on US and Russian relations, set against a backdrop of two chess matches, entwined with strands of love stories, tales of deception, and of course, those unmistakable and ABBA-like songs. Containing classic numbers such as One Night in Bangkok and I Know Him So Well, the stage was cleverly minimal, with just 25 LED squares which made up a small chess board, along with a projection backdrop.

Almost all of the 30 actors played an instrument or sung, too, and it was refreshing to see the musicians actually play incidental characters and become part of the show, rather than being hidden away in either the wings or pit. The songs and music were performed well, the story well-acted, but the volume was too high at certain intervals, bending and merging the music and voices of the principal actors into one not altogether harmonious whole. All in all, very good though, and a good night out at a fraction of London West End prices.

That didn’t mean it was a cheap night, though. Risky, but the Polo provided transport down to the Essex coast, and probably to be expected, let us down on the way home at Rayleigh. The first signs were a whining fan belt and stuttering lights, and we got as far as the Southend Arterial Road, before the interior lights dimmed proper, the car jumped forward and we rolled to a stop in, thankfully, a layby. One call to the RAC and a 45-minute wait later, we were talking technical matters with the orange-vested repair man, who was convinced he could get us going again.

An hour later we were on our way, though not before Nik had bought a more comprehensive RAC membership (mine only covered me for 10 miles away from home). Turned out that the car’s new alternator that had been fitted the week before was faulty, and so we had to be jump-started by the RAC chap every five miles or so. We came to rest twice more; once in a layby on a roundabout, and again at home, an unceremonious push getting the car on the drive. It took us two hours from the repair man arriving to getting home, and we were exhausted. I don’t know about One Night in Bangkok, we almost had one very tiring night in Southend.

[Image: chess-the-musical.co.uk]

Our first walk of the year, and it wasn’t an entirely successful one, but at least it got us out of the blocks. Combining a trip to Lakeside shopping centre at Thurrock with a countryside walk might sound like a tall order, but it can be done if you stop off at Davy Down. Opened in 1993, the 32-acre Davy Down Riverside Park (to give it its full name) has riverside paths that wind through water meadows, woodland and along the side of the River Mardyke. It sounds the ideal place for a wildlife-rich and quiet open air escape, but it left us a little… well, underwhelmed.

Our regular walking route book didn’t help. Making the route much longer than it actually is, thanks to numerous double backs, we found that we’d covered the guided path much faster than we’d anticipated, and aside from looking at the 1928 historic Stifford Pumping Station, there’s not much else to do. The Stifford Viaduct is an impressive Victorian feature that adds to the park, too, but I’m not sure it’s worth a trip for that alone. All in all, though, a fresh morning stroll set us up for an afternoon of shopping, although I think our legs were more tired from the aisles rather than from our outdoor diversion.

Nothing unusual in that maybe, but they were very friendly, and would nuzzle your hand if you put it close enough to the large-holed wire fence. Some of the males (the bucks) were getting their antlers for the rutting season, while some of the babies were very small, suggesting they were only born this year. Their spotty backs and almost ginger colouring contrasted well with the low-hanging sun-filled and cloudless sky, while the dewy grass sparkled a near-lime green.

A 500-acre, 700 year-old open space of lakes, parkland and tree-lined avenues, Weald Country Park is just west of Brentwood (we explored the nearby High Street post-park) and is the largest of the Essex County Council parks. It was landscaped in the 18th century by Capability Brown, for the then lord of the manor, Hugh Smith. His grand house, Weald Hall, once stood in the park, but was demolished in 1950-51, due to war damage. There’s still lots of nature-inspired things to see, though, and we left a good deal of it to explore next time.

Halloween weekend, and the ESSEXstreetdiversions. Why this weekend every year I’m not sure (nor why it’s written like that), but the town centre of Chelmsford becomes an almost magical world where strange creatures and beings parade up and down pathways between the shops, bemusing those passing by and those out for a bargain or two. The ‘free festival of international outdoor performance’ brought artists from all over the globe. The Coneheads are a mainstay of the event and they returned again this year, along with a fire-breathing mechanical horse, a musical band of insects and a water-squirting, remote control wheelie bin among others. Darkness saw a spectacular fireball show in Bell Meadow bringing the curtain down on the event; one which we’ll certainly try to catch again next year.

Is summer really over? It certainly is theoretically by month and how late it is in the year, but you wouldn’t have known it earlier today. With the sun shining, we drove to Paper Mill Lock and walked part of the 14-mile long Chelmsford and Blackwater Navigation canal which was built between 1793 and 1797 to carry water freight to Springfield Basin at Chelmsford from the open sea via the sea lock at Heybridge Basin near Maldon, we’ve walked part-way along the bank before. The last time we tried this very stretch back in February, we were thwarted by the mud and our lack of walking shoes. No such disappointment today, though, and with the sun shining, those 90 minutes as far as the A12 felt like the height of summer. Turns out we didn’t really need our wellies after all.

It’s been nine months since we were last at Thorndon Park (my 2009 birthday to be precise), the Essex walkers’ paradise. A 400-acre country park, its myriad of forest trails and tracks, green spaces and bushy clearings ensure there’s something for all open-air types. It was busy today, too, proof if proof were needed that outdoor pursuits are very much alive and kicking. We took mum as she’s down for the long weekend, and although we were on the go for two hours, the 4-mile trek around one of Thorndon’s longest routes was more than enough.

We headed south first towards the A127 and then looped back north, past piles of felled trees and endless dog walkers with their canine friends. Back at the car, we headed out to Andrew and Sheila’s for an on-the-way-home cuppa, and then home proper, where we spent the third evening in a row playing cards, although Geoff was an extra four-handed cribbage partner tonight. Happy times.

Last time I walked the pier at Southend, it was cold and windy. Today when we walked the pier it was cold and windy. So, so windy. There may have been over three years and two seasons separating the two strolls down the 1.3-mile wooden walkway, but the weather was uncannily similar. We just made it back to dry land, literally, too, as the heavens opened just as we headed inside one of the seafront cafés for our fish, chips and mushy peas. With Katharine, Luke and Emilie up from London, we spent the afternoon winning at bingo, playing air hockey and strolling down the promenade before heading down to Leigh-on-Sea. An undiscovered jewel of a place, few would believe that Southend is in sight from the watery, boat-littered mud flats; two completely contrasting coastal resorts.

The last day of our holiday proper (if you don’t include the weekends), and the promise of good weather meant only one thing – a trip to the seaside. And there are plenty sprinkled on the Essex coastline, but we chose the stretch of sometimes rocky, sometimes sandy shore from Clacton to Walton via Frinton as our seaside destination, not least because we could potentially walk from one town to the other. That actually turned out to not be the case in the time we alloted to the task, and a mix of circumstances meant that we only got as far as Frinton, somewhere mid-way between the two.

Strolling on the shoreline path, the wind was fierce at times, but the sun was hot, shimmering on the sea to our right an catching the blades of the wind turbines in the distance. So hot was the sun, the side of my neck on which it was shining turned a distinct shade of red, proving that we have had something of a summer after all. The walk from Clacton to Frinton took around two hours (much longer than we’d anticipated), and once we’d got past all the beach huts with their sea vistas that litter the eastern Essex coast, we’d earned our greasy-ish spoon café lunch of egg, chips and tea.

Why only as far as Frinton, though? That longer than expected walk, which meant that we wouldn’t make it back in time to the car park in Clacton, running the risk of a clamp. So tight was time, we couldn’t even just stroll back from Frinton, without carrying onto Walton and then doing the whole route in reverse. So, we misguidedly bought train tickets back to from Frinton, and then realised that we’d misinterpreted the train timetable, and the next service was too late. Plan B involved the local bus, which to be fair, took us back into Clacton town centre – where we had to run to the car park – but we paid a steep £7.00 between us for the privilege. More (walking) speed next time.

We’re holidaying at home this week (or to use the new hateful marketing buzzword of the moment, having a ‘stay-cation’, pfth). And although I had a little bit of tidying up of work to do this morning, once that was done, we buzzed up to Colchester for the afternoon. In our opinion, the oldest Roman recorded town in England – and the capital of Roman Britain – is one of the best towns in our home county of Essex, and offers much for sightseers and shoppers alike. With alleys off the main thoroughfares inhabited by smaller, more independent shops, in many ways it’s similar to Brighton or Norwich.

This afternoon it also reminded me very much of that other East Anglian jewel, Cambridge. Tucked away, hidden behind railings opposite one of the town’s churches, is the Art Café, and its almost holy location played quite a major part in our town-city comparison. The small eatery-cum-gallery is ensconced by buildings at either side, and the pretty little courtyard with stone walls and green umbrellas provide a very pleasant and cosy atmosphere, even under a dull, grey sky. We can’t vouch for the interior, but eating our scones and drinking our hot drinks outside, we really could have been down a meandering alley in the East Anglian city of spires some 60 miles away.

And what delights those scones and hot drinks were. Rich and buttery, the scones were perfectly made, and my white hot chocolate (places that do this are very few and far between) was equally sumptuous. Opened in 2007, the Art Café in Trinity Street feeds off a parent establishment on Mersea Island – also in Essex – and both blend homemade food and selling art to a, well, fine art. Started by James and Maggie Weaver as places to combine their love of food and art, both Art Cafés feature small exhibitions by local artists. The Art Café is open six days a week in Colchester, serving breakfast from 9 until 11am, lunch from 11am until 3pm, and afternoon teas from 3 until 5pm.

• The Art Café, 7 Trinity Street, Colchester CO1 1JN // 01206 577 775 // www.islandartcafe.co.uk/

Walking seems to have fallen by the wayside for us a bit recently, and we’ve been off the beaten tracks for a proper stroll for quite some time. Admittedly, there has been the odd one or two, but they’ve all been fairly short in nature and more of a stroll rather than a good tramping across the fields kind of a walk. So, this afternoon, after another sunny and sociable BBQ lunch in Galleywood, we put that right, drove the handful of miles to Ingtatestone, and walked the 2.5 miles through the countryside, past Ingatestone Hall to nearby Buttsbury.

It’s a route that Nik used to take regularly with an old school friend, and that in itself tells you how long ago it is since he last did it. And although the sun wasn’t really hanging in the sky and it was overcast, it still made for a pleasant and long enough walk, even though we thought we might have gotten caught out with a rain shower at one point. With fields of brown and dead-looking peas drying (we’ve since found out the Essex farmers are growing wasabi peas for export to Japan), the air was full of the sound of pods popping.

Crossing the little concrete bridge where the two school friends used to sit and dangle their legs over the edge, we could see the little church serving Buttsbury on the outskirts of the village. With an interior not much larger than a classroom, St Mary’s Church is not only old, but sweet with it. A mixture of brick, flint, tile and timber, the small, slatted bell tower looks out across the now combined fields, the same fields through which we tramped our way back to the car. With two dog walkers and two dogs (one a little more excitable than I’d have liked), we even had some canine company for part of the stroll back.