Hilly's Tea Shop, Shere, Surrey

If, like me, you try to avoid restaurants or cafes that insist on abbreviating 'coleslaw' as 'slaw' or use the word 'leaves' instead of 'salad', then you're certainly on the right track in life. You're probably dissatisfied with many other things, like high street coffee retailers with their run-of-the-mill English Breakfast teabags or their mass-produced cakes and tarts, or those eating establishments that insist on offering crushed avocado in sandwiches made with sourdough bread, the most disgusting bread in the world; but these sort of establishments exist and they're multiplying because those running them think they're doing us all a huge favour, although often they get confused. They think that by putting a few paltry slices of avocado in a sandwich they're doing their bit for healthy eating, forgetting, of course, that adding bacon and mayo kind of negates the whole exercise. It doesn't matter where I go, there's no escape...even in quaint little villages like Shere in Surrey.

I'll admit, I dabbled, and while it was fine if I tried my best to ignore the words 'leaves' and 'slaw' and 'sourdough' - all three of which were on the menu of the restaurant I chose for lunch - the fact that I left without eating cake proved to be the best thing I did all day. Why? Because when I hit the fresh air of early September and started to walk towards the church, I passed Hilly's Tea Shop and considered a stop for tea and cake after a brief religious interlude that didn't really happen as a wedding was in full swing and a herd of tottering women caked in foundation were stampeding towards me and I was forced to retreat and go back towards Hilly's.

It was decided we would have tea and cake to round off the afternoon and so we crossed the threshold of Hilly's Tea Shop and headed for an excellent table by the window. What a treat it turned out to be, a huge slice of England, a large dose of Miss Marple and a great discovery: Hilly lives, she's real, it's her place and she firmly believes that 'a scone must be eaten on the day it is made', not that I ordered one. 

Her red Toyota Aygo was parked outside and she came over to discuss a white Fiat that had somehow managed to park in a very tight space, almost bumper-to-bumper with her compact and bijou ride. She was pleased when I guessed that she was Hilly and wanted to know what I thought of her Bakewell tart, but I couldn't really tuck in until my pot of tea was sufficiently brewed and I would have to wait for the white sand in a small 'hour' glass to trickle from the top to the bottom of the glass, which rested on a tiny rectangular tray alongside a very English, floral-patterned teapot and a dainty cup and saucer. There was a tea strainer too and at that moment I realised I would be drinking proper tea. No teabags at Hilly's!

The best cup of tea in the world and a decent slice of Bakewell tart!

The Bakewell tart was good, very good, but the tea stole the show. I haven't enjoyed a cup of tea for many years. That sounds silly, I know, but it's true. I've put up with the crap offered in every single 'high street branded restaurant' I could think of. I can't remember the last time my thirst was quenched by a decent cup of Rosie Lee, but here I was, in Hilly's Tea Room, enjoying the best cup of tea in the country if not the world.

For two ample pots of amazing tea, a slice of Bakewell tart and a slice of banana bread the bill was just £16... and worth every penny.