Aversham-on-the-hill --end of the Metropolitan Line

Heading to the opposite corner of London on the suggestion of a website spotlighting "Best Villages in the South of England" (review by Ferne Arfin), we travel Northwest toward Old Aversham via Overground and two Underground trains, fifteen minutes shy of a two hour journey.  We find ourselves at the end of the Metropolitan Line, the world's oldest subway (so the review claims). Disembarking onto the platform still umbrellaed by Victorian arches and canopies, or so it appears to my foreign eye, we enjoy a stroll through Old Aversham (several pubs -- including two from the movie "Four Weddings and a Funeral", but no cafe). Then head up the hill to Aversham-on-the-hill, the "modern town" started with the arrival of the Underground station.

Sadly, the local cafe closed "a while back," so we settle for the Master Chef open at 7:30 am. Could be a franchise, but not sure.  The cheerful waitress, donning a polka-dot Master Chef apron takes our 2x2 order, returning quickly with two large mugs of piping hot tea.  Clean throughout, wobble-free tables, no TV and soft music create a pleasant space in which to enjoy our warm retreat from the bitter cold.
And just enough tinsel and glitter to make it Christmas.

The extra-large framed photos of New York make us wonder why some restaurants try to be somewhere they are not -- Pictures of the ancient Market Town of Old Aversham, only a mile away, would provide interesting and informative visual sustenance.  Ah, but likely these NYC photos arrive pre-framed from a mass supplier of art-for-your-business.  And photos of Old Aversham would need to be taken, printed and framed.  And, truth be told, the New York cityscape is beautiful.

But let us not forget the eggs...poached on brown bread today.  Happy Husband smiles with delight as he pokes the first yolk and his bread soaks in the run-off.  The other three seem more soft-boiled.  But all are hot and delicious.  And the still-piping-hot tea covers any egg-disappointment.

The blustery Winnie-the-Pooh day blows dry leaves inside each time the door opens, and the staff quickly appears broom-in-hand to sweep them away with a smile.

As we depart, the woman enjoying her eggs, bacon and chips, sitting in the front window, reminds me of my beloved aunt Helen who enjoyed a weekly meal out at her favourite Burger Joint in Albuquerque, always claiming the same seat.  I wonder if perhaps this aged English Auntie finds herself in this window each Thursday enjoying the fare of Master Chef in Aversham-on-the-Hill.

Old Aversham, by the way, is indeed a gem -- chartered in 1200 by (Bad) King John for an annual Market Fair, still held each September, with a grand thoroughfare through its middle to accommodate the market (which today is accommodating extra parking down its middle).  Fun to picture Hugh Grant and Andy MacDowell  in the Crown Hotel (true confessions...we went inside to feel the vibes!)