A cold rain began to fall as I motored up Titsey Hill on a dank and dreary weekday afternoon. In the bare-branched trees, a murder of crows cackled under the colourless skies.

When I reached the farmstead of Beddlestead, more than 800ft above sea level on the crest of the North Downs, there was a reminder of January's freezing weather, for at the side of the road, there were heaps of unmelted snow a few feet deep. Yards away, the bus stop in Clark's Lane lay almost postrate. It must have been struck by a car skidding on ice at the height of the inclement weather two or three weeks ago.

I followed the main road down to Westerham and drove along the A25 to the historic village of Brasted.

This is like a miniature Dorking. For every other shop seems to sell antiques. The shop window displays were full of copper bed-pans, antique tables, oil lamps and the like.

A friend had telephoned a few days earlier to tell me of a fairly new coffee shop in the village and thought I may like to give it a try.

I parked by a row of cottages, outside of which was a row of pollarded trees.

By now, a steady rain was drenching the village. I intended to have a browse through the bric a brac, collectibles and ephemera in these quaint shops, but within seconds was wet through, so I swiftly headed for the warmth of the coffee shop.

I was amused to see it was called "ninetysix degrees" as it was only a couple of degrees above freezing outside.

Despite the inclement weather, I discovered this little restaurant was abuzz with ladies doing lunch and a few business chaps grabbing a sandwich and a coffee between busy schedules.

A welcome sight was that of a dozen or more slim, brown leather armchairs placed around coffee tables and the like.

The gurgling hiss from frothy milk dispensers emanated from the counter area as I wandered up to see what was on offer.

A tray of cellophane-wrapped cheese and ham panninis greeted me upon arrival but I was also tempted by the large sponge cakes on show close-by.

These included lemon drizzle and lime zest citrus.

I selected a slice of the latter, along with a tall glass of hot chocolate and was told by the slim blonde waitress that she would bring them to the table.

I sat in the corner, reclining in the armchair. This was bliss.

The two ladies on the next table were discussing a recipe.

"I normally just fry it," said one.

Above the counter hung a long narrow wipe-board on which was written a list of the beverages and light lunches that were available: cappuccino, £2.40 large, £1.95 medium; Americano, espresso and mocha to name just a few of the options.

Two people got up to leave.

"Bubbye, thank you very much," said one, facing the waitress.

I glanced at the pile of magazines next to me. They included copies of Red and Planning Your Wedding.

The two ladies had changed the subject of their conversation.

"He tends to bury his head in the sand, I'm afraid," said one of the women, sighing and sipping from a large coffee.

I glanced up at the large jars of cookies and croissants.

Another couple of ladies sat down after ordering large wedges of chocolate cake and fruit cake. The blonde brought the plates to the tables along with two forks which the ladies used with great dexterity to divide the cake into manageable proportions.

Outside, the rain and drizzle continued to fall, soaking the tables on the patio in front of the restaurant.

My eyes wandered to the works of modern art hanging above the fireplace.

This small establishment has been only open for about a year, I gleaned, and has proved to be a popular place for locals to meet and catch up with each other's news and views.

On crisp winter mornings and warm sunny summer days, people planning strolls in the hilly woodlands of Ide Hill, Toys Hill and Limpsfield Chart may bear in mind that this coffee room may be a good place to relax after their ramble.

And those interested in antiques may find the bargain they are looking for in one of the Dickensian-style shops in the main street. On the way home, I decided to pop in on the old friend who had recommended my visit to the coffee shop.

She put on the kettle at her isolated home and made me a mug of Earl Grey tea as we stated at the blue tits and coal tits feeding on her container of nuts in the garden.

I raised my eyebrows as she informed me: "I shall be 70 on Wednesday."

Mark Davison