New Inn, Cononley

With one minute to go, I was quietly congratulating myself on my timing, but just as I breezed up to the level crossing, the barriers smacked noisily down in front of my bonnet, firmly staying like that for another 22 minutes.

My gimlet-faced co-diner said not a word, but merely drew attention to the various slogans on the wall, behind her: "Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage", or even more appositely, "There are no strangers here, but just friends you've yet to meet!"

Hastily proffering her a drink, I hid my blushes under the wordy menu, designed as much for the local casual as for the serious diner.

The restaurant area, like many an old pub, opens out of the bar area where locals lit-up and barmaids slaved. It will be interesting to see what will happen in so many of these village hostelries when, shortly, yet another of our freedoms (and I don't smoke) is outlawed.

A slight mix-up over tables was soon sorted, and shortly we were tucking into starters.

My wife expressed appreciation of her deep-fried camembert with its usual accompaniments, while I drooled over the Indian combo platter with its moreish samosas, onion bhaji, tikkas and other authentic Indian bits and pieces, with a mint dip and mango chutney.

Other starters were predictable, including soup and garlic mushrooms, but it is to the credit of this establishment that while there is a limited menu, including some good vegetarian dishes, what they do, they do well.

I was, however, surprised that a wide variety of sandwiches were available at the same price as the other starters - £4.95. Who would opt for sandwiches when good fare was available at the same price?

But perhaps this reflects on those diners seeking a snack rather than a main meal.

The Main Event (how I hate these clichés) featured local favourites, not least home-made steak and kidney pie with rich ale gravy, which brought wifely appreciative sighs of satisfaction, served with (fairly uninspiring) vegetables and simply heavenly chips.

I plumped - an appropriate word - for home-made meat and potato pie, which was just as my mother used to make, with light-pastry on its top and gravy underneath. If I had a fault, it was that the plates were too small, so that everything - beautifully hot - was piled up in a heap.

Specials on the board ranged from no more than £4.50 to £6.25, with mixed grills being popular at £5.75, chops, sausage and the like, with nothing more than an average £6.75 apart from speciality steaks.

I had opted for a modest portion of the pie, so I was intrigued by what the usual size might be, but they quickly ran out of this house favourite. Besides, I was more interested in what "a bit on the side" might infer (yet another cliché), but wifely caution forbad further investigation.

Sweets were no more than £2.10 and included spotted dick, Dutch apple pie, cheesecake and treacle sponge with custard, suitably treacly and toothsome.

The piped muzak was, mercifully, drowned by the buzz of conversation and the realisation that whole families were just enjoying a good meal out.

The whole bill, to my astonishment, was but £27 and whilst not exactly nouvelle cuisine, it well suits those who like a rumbustious setting and good value.

It was a day which I had spent in a room in York's Guildhall, where in 1647 the enormous sum of £200,000 (multiply by twelve, at least) had been handed over to the belligerent Scots in return for their leaving the country (they got the same amount when they had cleared Newcastle) and their assistance in capturing King Charles I.

It was a day when a strong Nationalist had been elected First Minister of Scotland for the first time, and I could not but help muse on the fact that had not the warring Scots been further east, supper taken at The New Inn might have precluded their being able to mount their horses, with or without a huge bribe! Philip Johnston