with Mark Davison
The Watermill, Reigate Road, Dorking
B IRDS were singing cheerfully in the warmth of the spring afternoon as I stepped onto the patio of The Watermill pub between Betchworth and Deepdene.
I had pulled up at the Watermill to avail myself of some food which is served all day.
On arrival, I crunched over the gravelly forecourt and parked the motor with ease. A large poster displayed alongside the drive advertised the public house's roast dinners and showed a picture of a mouth-watering dinner plate piled high with roast potatoes, meat, veg and gravy.
Stepping inside, I enquired at the bar if it was all right to eat outside on the patio, which commands panoramic views of Box Hill.
A personable young waitress assured me this was fine and that I should make a note of the number on the table of my choice and return to the bar to order. She handed me a lunch menu with some most reasonably priced smaller dishes available between midday and 4pm each afternoon, Mondays to Saturdays.
I took a seat in the sunshine.
Two retired ladies were "doing lunch" on a table nearby.
One said in a low voice to her companion: "I really should have taken them to court. The floor was wet when I had that fall."
The ladies got up to depart. They smiled at me and I asked how their meal was.
"Oh, very nice," said one of the pair. "We ended up having fish and chips and sat there enjoying the lovely view."
I enquired whether they had selected the £5 fish and chips or the, presumably, larger version from the main menu.
She stifled a naughty laughter and confessed: "The main one. We decided to push the boat out."
I enquired if they had far to go (in their car, not a boat).
"My sister here lives in New Malden so I'm going home with her," one of the ladies said.
I replied that I remembered New Malden from when I was much younger.
She said the area had greatly changed over the years and reminisced about some of the bygone shops, such as the large Cannings toy and book store.
"Do they still call the High Street, 'the village'?" I asked.
"Oh yes," she said. "Some of us do."
I bade them farewell and perused the lunch menu.
The Stilton and peppercorn mushrooms – comprising sautéed mushrooms on a garlic toasted muffin with a Stilton and pepper sauce, "finished with crumbled Stilton" (£3) was a must.
I also placed an order for the crayfish mayonnaise sandwiches (£5.99) with a salad side dish. After all, salad days were here at last.
The other sandwiches on offer included cheese with ale chutney (£4.49); smoked chicken, bacon and avocado (£4.99) and barbecue and ale-pulled pork (£5.99).
A few onion rings couldn't be resisted either.
Returning to my table, I sat back to soak up the atmosphere and the sunshine.
I surveyed the surrounding countryside and was amazed to see old mansions, partially hidden by small woods, nestling here and there on the southern slopes of Box Hill. How would motorised transport reach these isolated dwellings? I wondered.
Sheep were grazing in pastures which were remarkably verdant given there had been two or three weeks of dry weather in April.
I cast my eyes on the summit of Box Hill and spotted half a dozen visitors milling around the viewpoint admiring the vistas.
A middle-aged couple took a table near mine.
They sipped drinks and said very little until the lady mentioned to her dining companion: "I've been looking at the Science Museum on-line."
As I tucked into the mushrooms, a young couple strolled onto the patio. Both were wearing summer attire and sporting sun shades.
At the far end of the patio, an older couple were lazily finishing off a late lunch. Occasionally the lady took a puff on a cigarette.
Still the birds sang and I could make out the soporific song of the blackbird and the robin.
Bordering the pub patio were flowering mauve and white lilac trees.
Now and again, a pesky fly would settle on the table while I was eating. The raising of a hand instantly led to its swift departure.
A wood pigeon cooed in the distance and after a pause, a reply would be aired by a mate in a far-off tree.
Time was by now getting on and although it would have been nice, I decided not to while away the whole afternoon on the patio. Chores needed to be attended to.
I bade farewell at the bar on the way out. An older gentleman was telling the bar girl: "I used to come to dances here, back in the 1980s."
The waitress looked up, smiled again and thanked me saying, "Enjoy the rest of your day".
