Motoring through the charming conservation area of St John's, Redhill, the other day, my eyes went to the "sandwich board" outside The Plough public house.

The sign, yards from a plethora of beautiful hanging baskets and pots containing begonias, petunias, geraniums and African marigolds, read: "Coffee and a Danish served every day after 10am. Tea or hot chocolate also available."

I vowed to stop by one day and avail myself of the elevenses offered in this delightful spot less than a mile from the busy heart of Redhill.

After parking the motor, I strolled beside the grassy common, pausing to gaze at the towering spire of St John's Church. Bushy pines and horse chestnuts laden with unripened conkers hid the view of the rest of the church, parts of which date back to 1843. This steeple was built in 1895, two years before Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee.

I breezed into the bar area, where dozens of shining brass and copper household implements hung from the ceiling, adding much interest to this little hostelry. On the walls, there were paintings of rural English scenes, some depicting cricket matches on village greens and at least one showing a golfing tournament with the gentlemen players sporting plus fours.

A most pleasant young lady with a warm smile appeared behind the bar and enquired how she could help. I checked she was could serve coffee and a Danish and with great alacrity she went off to prepare my elevenses.

She said she would bring the coffee to my seat outside on the patio, where I sat taking stock of life and watching the trees swaying in the lively summer breeze.

On the next table, a couple seemed to be on the verge of dating.

"We could just go out, listen to some music, have a drink and a laugh and see how it goes," said the man, sipping from a pint of beer.

I looked in the opposite direction so as not to appear eager to hear the reaction of the lady.

Suddenly, the waitress arrived with the coffee and the Danish, which I was pleased to discover contained pecan nuts and maple syrup.

"Where are you from?" I enquired of her.

"South Africa," she said, smiling politely.

Perhaps rather clumsily, I said that she must have been happy about the success of her country in staging the World Cup football finals.

"Oh definitely," she said. "And do you know, I used to live in the very same road that the stadium's in, so every time it was on the television I felt quite emotional."

I asked if she waved to her mum when she saw the aerial view of the stadium and she laughed and contentedly went about her chores.

I tucked into the warm pastry and was surprised at just how hot the centre was. The milk for the coffee came in a small jug and had been frothed.

Sipping the beverage, I ran my eyes down the bar snacks menu, which is separate from the main meals list. There was a good choice of snacks, both hot and cold, to cater for the passer-by or the regular customers.

The list included "chef's own soup with warm bread and butter, £3.95"; two slices of cheese on toast, £3.50; prawn Marie Rose, or salmon sandwiches, £5.50; and a range of basket meals, including chicken, sausages or scampi.

A lady with a beige cardigan tied around her waist turned up and placed an order for coffee and a Danish. Obviously, this is quite a popular line, I gleaned.

She quietly stared towards the church steeple, deep in thought.

The breeze picked up further and boisterously blew shower clouds across the sky. Happily, the rain kept away, although I was well aware that our dry and crispy brown lawns were in desperate need of a soaking.

An older couple arrived for coffee and smiled at me as I munched the Danish.

"You can't beat this," I said to the gentleman, who agreed and grinned from his weather-beaten face.

Trailing lobelias in containers of potted miniature conifers danced in the wind.

I decided to order another coffee before taking a gentle stroll around St John's. I was enchanted by the pretty cottages opposite the green. One, "The Verralls", I must single out for praise. The front garden of this picturesque little home, dating back to 1862, was resplendent with bright-coloured flowers. I stepped aside to allow the postman to march up the garden path.

All of a sudden, there was a loud hum of schoolchildren's excited chatter as a long snake of pupils wound its way across the common to St John's School.

I waited patiently for the boys and girls to pass before taking a short ramble on Redhill Common. I asked the teacher shepherding the last pupils across the road what the occasion was and she replied: "We've just had our sports day at The Ring on Earlswood Common".

Later in the day, I learned a little more about this school which nestles on the common and looks like it hasn't changed since Victorian times.

In August 1840 the parish claimed compensation from the London, Brighton and South Coast railway company "for the loss of grazing and other rights when it built the railway across the common." Four years later the £535.7s thus obtained was spent on the poor and on building the school which opened in 1845.

Mark Davison