When the former merchant's premises that now houses Harriet's cake shop and tearooms was built in 1627, tea was almost unknown in Britain, other than an exotic brew favoured by Orientals and the daring Portuguese.

It's difficult now to imagine this country without the clink of teacups and gurgle of hot water sloshing into a sturdy pot, especially while strolling along Woodstock's olde-worlde High Street.

I had driven my mum to Woodstock on a day off work, intending to show her the rolling grounds of Blenheim Palace. But the aristocracy had other ideas.

Sure, the swanky gaff was open to visitors, but since I last visited in, I think, 2002, admission - even for those on foot - had soared to an eyeball-bulging £9 per person.

And it wasn't even a sunny day. So we stomped off to console ourselves with a nice cuppa instead.

It being early afternoon, most of the cafes and pubs were winding down. Not so Harriet's, where several people were chatting over drinks and confectionery, watched by frilly-aproned staff.

According to my notepad, although I've mislaid the leaflet that backed up the claim, Harriet's boasts that some of the wood in its beams hails from Spanish galleons that formed part of the doomed Armada of 1588.

The place was rampantly quaint I expected Miss Marple to bumble past at any moment, followed by a vicar on a bike and a dog scampering along with a string of sausages in its mouth.

Passing the cake stands and an unrealistic artificial fireplace, we were shown to a neat, but wobbly table close to the shop's array of quirky teapots in the front window.

SO WHAT DID YOU CHOOSE?

The menu advertised pretty unpretentious fare, such as pizza, sausage rolls and sandwiches. I picked a pasty with beans (salad was offered as an alternative), and cup of coffee, while my mum ordered the soup of the day, celery and stilton, with some tea.

Both our meals were served fairly promptly, and with wedges of excellent wholemeal bread topped with seeds (it wasn't specified on the menu whether the bread would be brown or white, so we were pleasantly surprised).

WHAT DID YOU THINK?

My mum remarked that the soup was tasty without being particularly salty, and quite a thick concoction.

Unfortunately, my beans were lukewarm, but I tucked into my pasty without much ado. On the other side of the Tamar bridge they would have muttered that it wasn't a proper Cornish one, on account of the diced carrot, but this didn't bother me it was hot and filling, and both meals cost less than £4.

We could hardly leave without sampling the sweet goods, so we also ordered what turned out to be a hefty slice of coffee cake and a smaller piece of lemon drizzle. Both were marvellously fluffy, but on the dry side and delicately flavoured.

Having found my coffee a bit weak for my (espresso-tuned) palate, I quaffed a pot of Assam tea while mum enjoyed a coffee, which was refilled for free.

WHAT WAS THE ATMOSPHERE LIKE?

There wasn't any music, but we were entertained by the chatter around us, not least from a charming little girl who did an impromptu tap-dance to show off her new shoes.

VERDICT: A bit no-frills (other than the waitresses' outfits), but rather endearing.