There’s a sign on an approach road into Oxford from the west advertising “the best Sunday lunch in the world (except your mum’s)”. While flattering to mothers everywhere, the come-on does not do the biz with me: I want any Sunday lunch I eat out to be much better than mum’s – the pursuit of excellence is the reason, after all, why one hasn’t stayed at home.

Just such a Sunday lunch is what is supplied at the Eyston Arms, in East Hendred. This justly popular pub was set up in its present style a little over five years ago by George Dailey and Edward Eyston. George now runs it with business partner Daisy Barton, a local ‘girl’ who worked there in the early days and now has charge of its day-to-day operation.

I was pleased to see both George and his wife, Cargie, and Daisy’s family, too, all enjoying their lunch together at a table adjacent to ours. The Daileys’ presence reminded me of many happy occasions of a similar sort, rather longer ago than all of us might care to remember, when they ran the Harcourt Arms at Stanton Harcourt (between 1975 and 1988). Sometimes George would roast a whole lamb over the fire; it was a delight to be able to request a slice of the fillet.

George later returned to the business with a revamp of the Boot (formerly the Britannia) at Barnard Gate, near Witney, which is still being run on very similar lines today, complete with its collection of celebrity footwear on the walls.

The decor of the Eyston Arms harks back rather more to the Harcourt Arms style and features some of the same Spy cartoons of Victorian worthies that once hung there. The photograph above gives a good impression of its comforts. The animated scene very much reflects what Rosemarie, Olive and I found on our recent visit. I had taken the precaution of booking a table the morning before, otherwise it is pretty clear we wouldn’t have got in.

Eager to proceed with the business in hand, we made straight for our table, noting with approval the selection of olives and hors d’oeuvres being supplied, gratis, from the bar. The Sunday practice of providing nibbles for the regulars was once widely applied, and it is good to see it surviving here. I later noticed George beside the bar with a large plate of oysters; I fancy these were for his personal consumption.

For my choice of starter, I could hardly do other than go for the grilled prawns with garlic bread and aioli, with which I began so many meals in Harcourt days. Presentation now is subtly different, with the four juicy skewered prawns served peeled rather than entire. This means there is no longer the need for the lemon-scented finger wipes that used to come on the plate. The bread these days is ciabatta.

Rosemarie started with a delicious twice-baked spinach and cheese soufflé, topped with balsamic red peppers, and her mother had wild mushroom soup with crème fraiche and tarragon oil. The bread was plentiful (as one might hope for £3) and offered with both butter and (shirt-front beware!) olive oil with balsamic vinegar.

For our main courses we tried, variously, the three roast meats on offer. All were wonderful and generously supplied. I enjoyed thick pink slices of rib of beef with Yorkshire pudding; Olive had roast leg of Hendred lamb (how’s that for local?), and Rosemarie had crisp roast belly of Oxfordshire pork. Superb crackling earned her special praise. We all loved the crunchy roast potatoes, cauliflower cheese, buttered greens and “proper” gravy (which it was).

To finish, Olive found room for a slab of classically constructed sticky toffee pudding with cream, while Rosemarie and I shared a plate of Shropshire blue with scrummy oatmeal biscuits, including some flavoured with caraway seeds. A superb meal.