The scene: a steam railway station restaurant somewhere in the north of England. The date: Valentine's Day 2017. Dramatis personae: a couple bearing no resemblance whatsoever to Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson. Sundry waiting staff. Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No 2 is playing in the background...

It was silly, really, how it began. I had got a piece of grit in my eye, and a tall, distinguished gentleman dug it out with his Kleenex as we settled in our seats at the station restaurant of the Haverthwaite and Lakeside Railway and perused their Winter Warmers two-courses-for-seven-quid (or three-for-nine) menu.

I looked around me (now the grit was gone from my eye). I found myself in a delightful and beautifully traditional railway restaurant. Wipe-clean tablecloths, well-padded benches, blackboards announcing the specials of the day; aproned staff; and views of the rail carriages resting among the backdrop of woods. Outside there were tables and benches for when the better weather arrived. It was peaceful, pretty, timeless and frightfully, frightfully British.

It was the week before half-term, so the trains were as yet idle, but over the coming months, I was sure this place would be absolutely heaving.

But back to the food. "Oh, my dahling," said the dashing stranger, doffing his trilby, "if you have the lentil soup, I'll have the bacon and Brie."

And that is how our Haverthwaite Brief Encounter started. Our eyes met over our very excellent starters and we fell in love as I downed one of the tastiest soups I've had in many a month, and my handsome companion shovelled in his Brie and bacon, which came with a beetroot chutney, some terribly good fresh brown bread and butter and a large salad complete with iceberg lettuce - which was awfully generous, considering there's a war on and lettuces are now rationed.

The restaurant was oh, so warm and welcoming, and surprisingly full for a mid-winter, midweek lunch. Although, perhaps not very surprising as this place provides - as I and my dashing beau discovered - simply divine food. It also has a licence; so I had a medicinal miniature bottle of chardonnay to get over my grit-in-eye ordeal, while our hero sampled a spiffing bottle of Ulverston Brewery ale, specially created for the railway.

Around us, fellow diners were all tucking in to their meals with gusto. A cosy fire flickered, and the dining room was entirely evocative of the glorious age of steam.

Our main courses arrived, as we gazed lovingly at each other. A chicken tikka masala for him - complete with a naan bread - and scampi and chips for me, with a delicious salad on the side.

We discussed our futures. He was destined for a new life in Africa, while I was doomed to spend my days darning socks and attempting to do exciting things with scrag end of mutton for a husband who watched far too much rugby for my liking come Six Nations season and who hogged the duvet. And never bought me flowers on Valentine's Day.

"Shall we see each other ever again?" I asked him in a choking voice, as he stood up suddenly. "I expect so," came the reply, "I'm only going to the loo. Although, who knows...?"

Later, as our pudding arrived, a steam engine hooted mournfully in the distance. Was it the train that would take my love away from me to his new life making dentures in a leper colony in Africa? No, it was the Thomas the Tank Engine Express warming up for the summer season.

"My darling, I love you very much," said the trilby-wearing gentleman sitting opposite me. I swooned - but then I realised he was talking to the ginger sponge and custard in front of him.

It was at that point that I decided to take my leave. I flung my fox fur stole around me - and, throwing thruppence-ha-penny on the table as a tip, headed home to my boring life with the Fat Controller. With apologies to Noel Coward.

LOUISE ALLONBY

Food 4

Atmosphere 4

Service 4

Value 5

Pros

Perfect for a romantic tryst

Frightfully good value

Heaps of parking

Cons

Tables quite close together