The last time I visited The Old Crown Inn, which stands in the centre of Faringdon, just off the Market Square, I had my dog for company. This time, my colleague Chris joined me on a jaunt to this delightful rural town which is a great place to visit, especially on a spring day when the daffodils have begun to bloom.

The Old Crown Inn, which dates back to the 16th century and was originally a coaching inn, seemed the obvious place to lunch once we had explored the town a little and admired its quaint collection of shops, There are two bars in this inn, one which the locals affectionately call the top room, which opens at seven in the evening and offers Sky Sports television and a pool table, and the rustic main bar, with its two little rooms, just large enough for one table, tucked away either side of the main drinking area. Those small rooms are so Dickensian, they really are worth inspecting. Indeed, the entire bar has such a timeless air, it wouldn't be difficult to imagine the great man himself and some of the characters from his novels - Mr Mickawber and perhaps Mrs Gamp, who was disposed to a tipple or two - leaning against the bar and putting the world to rights while sipping a pint of ale.

The walls were painted a strange mustard yellow, the ceiling had been given a coat of bright paint between its many beams, and the flagstone floor bore witness to the countless feet that had walked towards the bar over the centuries.

The cobbled courtyard behind the bar, with its stocks (which are not 16th century), is spoiled by a gigantic blue umbrella, no doubt erected to protect smokers from the elements. But look beyond the umbrella and you will feel the full weight of this old inn's history.

And yes, apparently it does have a ghost. It's a coachman who walks the old creaking stairs to room number eight, then hammers on the door. I'd like to say more about this midnight stroller, but no one would tell me if the door was ever opened to him.

There were three ales on tap when we called: Brakspear's Oxford Gold, Old Speckled Hen, and Marston's Pedigree. I had the Pedigree and wished I hadn't. The beer was cloudy and its taste suggested the pipes had not been cleaned for some considerable time.

Sitting close to a glorious wood-burning fire radiating its heat throughout the bar, we chose our meals.

Chris fancied the North Atlantic prawn salad with a portion of chips (£7.50 plus £1.75 for chips). I ordered the 10oz rump steak (£10.95) cooked medium.

Chris was thrilled with his prawn salad, which provided him with a generous amount of prawns.

Unfortunately, my steak had been cooked far too long to be described as medium, and the chips, which were home- made and should have been scrumptious, were overcooked to the point of tasting burnt.

Other dishes on the lunch menu included Old Crown big mixed grill (£12.95), prime local beefburger (£6.95), lasagne with mixed leaf salad and rustic garlic bread (£7.95), jumbo real ale-battered fish and chips (£7.95), home-made steak and ale pie (£7.45) and roast half chicken, at £7.95. Three sandwiches were also listed on this menu, from £4.50.

While sipping our coffee (cafetière at £1.50), we mused over the words written on the lintel over the fireplace, which read: 'When you have lost your inns, drowned your empty selves, you have seen the last of England'.

We knew it was by Hilaire Belloc, but somehow it didn't make as much sense as it should. Only on checking the Internet did we realise that it should have read 'drown' rather than 'drowned'.

The sun was still shining when we walked back out into the street.