AS I approached Headley the other afternoon, the wooded hills around suddenly disappeared in low cloud and rain spitted down. I passed Highlands Farm and Headley Court and the showers continued.
Looking for somewhere to stop for a bite to eat mid-afternoon on a Thursday was, perhaps, not the easiest of tasks here in the Surrey countryside. But moments later, I had pulled up at the former Cock Inn, now re-opened as the Headley Hills Restaurant and Bar.
Seeing a few motor cars parked outside, I was quite confident that I would be able to order some bar snacks and a welcome cuppa.
Stepping inside, I was quite taken back by the lavish refurbishment. There was a restaurant area, with tables laid out with knives and forks, serviettes and wine glasses, plus there was a "tea-shop" type of room and a plush bar with comfortable seating.
A glossy leaflet near the entrance advertised "Saxy Sundays" with resident sax player Suzi Gee, who was pictured wearing a shiny low-cut, shocking pink dress and carrying a gleaming saxophone.
I wondered up to the bar and enquired whether I could order some snacks.
A most polite young man – who later told me his parents were half-Italian, half-English and "also from the Maldives" – handed me a menu and pointed to the relevant section.
I took the menu into the "tea-room" and sat in the corner, perusing the list. There was certainly a wide variety of food to choose from: main meals, salads, burgers, sandwiches and more exotic choices.
On the next table, a family were huddled around the mother's mobile phone, looking at a photo. It displayed a picture of a new arrival. They all oooed and aaahed. It was not obvious at first whether it was a baby or a new-born pet.
One of the children asked the others: "If you were an animal, what would you want to be?"
One of the group replied: "If I was an animal, I'd love to be a cat. I like the way they can jump anywhere."
Another said softly: "I'd like to be a guinea pig. They're safe in the cage and nothing can get to them."
Dad said: "I think it's time we went".
"Oh!" protested the youngsters. "Can't we have some scones?" The children won the battle.
"Just get me some nuts," said Dad. The mother went up to the bar and did, indeed, order some scones.
"Can I have it with whipped cream?" pleaded one of the children.
I noticed a poster nearby advertising the range of afternoon cream teas that were now available.
Over the last few years, an increasing number of pubs, like farms, have had to diversify to exist. Several country public houses, like the Sportsman, at Mogador, are now offering delightful cream teas in the afternoons. The Grumpy Mole pubs at Cheam, Brockham and Tadworth, are now all renowned for their mouth-watering teas.
I went to the bar and placed an order for prawn sandwiches on brown bread, some onion rings and sweet potato mash "topped with toasted marshmallows". I was curious.
Back at my seat, I glanced out of the window. A silvery-gold sun flickered through the branches of a horse chestnut tree whose leaves had turned prematurely an autumnal brown, probably as a result of the disease affecting this species of tree.
The family were talking about their dogs and explaining to the children the breeding process.
"No, the female dog has to be in season. We probably won't breed with him."
A couple of men sat under the canopy outside, supping pints of Peroni and Stella Artois. They said little as they sat there with the rain dripping off the roof, occasionally checking for messages on their mobiles.
A line of poplars, agitated by the breeze, partly screened the old school cottage close by.
"I absolutely love the exuberance of the breed," said the mother on the next table.
"But he's so naughty – he's really naughty."
One of the others replied: "I wouldn't say naughty. I'd say naughty is being really bad; like jumping up and barking, or weeing in the wrong place. He's not naughty."
The dad chipped in: "He's ruined my flip-flops and he keeps nicking the guinea pig's water."
My eyes fixed on another pamphlet: Funkin Fridays – Friday, September 19: Saxy Soul night. It advertised a performance by Suzi Gee and her bongo player, before highlighting the September 26 event, Matthew Winchester singing Luther Vandross.
It was most peculiar that all the literature stated that the pub was in Church Road, Epsom, not Headley. Very strange. Epsom is miles away.
I tucked into the mash with the marshmallow topping. It was actually quite nice and artistically presented.
I ordered a pot of tea and poured myself a cup. The family got up to leave and I realised they had a cute little dog under the table. He had behaved impeccably during their visit. But as the pet passed another dog on the way out, there was a little disquiet.
