‘IT’S all very well you visiting these fancy places out in the countryside, but why don’t you ever go to review the sort of café that real people go to?’.

That was an email that found its way to our mystery diner a few days ago.

So in the interests of balance and by request, I headed off to Clitheroe where there lurks a real little treasure for those who love a traditional, no frills establishment.

If you were a first-time visitor, the chances are you would take one look at Swales from the outside and keep on walking.

Just off the main street, its grey, pebbled-dashed exterior is somewhat foreboding and just to add to the confusion it even has two names.

The larger sign declares it’s Colborne House Café but everyone knows it as Swales.

It is only when you open the door and step inside that you realise what a special place this is. With its red vinyl seating and Formica-topped tables, it is as though time has stood still.

If there are any film location managers on the lookout for a typical Sixties’ cafe, then this is the place they need to visit.

The wooden panelling, low ceilings with square ceiling tiles and skylights and large glass fronted counter scream nostalgia - it’s a look which trendy city types would love to create but this is the real thing.

If it’s not listed to preserve it for future generations then it should be

And boy is it popular, particularly around lunchtime, when it seems that nearly everyone in the place knows each other and is sitting down for a chinwag.

If it’s fine dining you are after then Swales is not for you. This is a proper café where you’ll find beans on toast, bacon butties and home made cakes on the menu.

It’s self-service too, so having found somewhere to sit, it was off to order.

I was told by a friend who is a regular that I had to order what he described as the ‘house speciality’ - so that was pie, peas and gravy for me then.

Served in a bowl which looked like it came from grandma’s tea set, it was piping hot and smelled delicious as I carried it gingerly back to my table, carefully avoiding slopping any of the gravy over the side.

Pie and peas is just pie and peas isn’t it? Maybe so, but maybe it was the surroundings which just provided the perfect setting - or maybe I was just very hungry - but it was just delicious.

I attacked it with gusto, tucking in with a spoon - the official implement of pie eaters - the semi-mushy peas and thick, tasty gravy working together perfectly.

This was comfort eating at its finest and at £3.50 represented something of a bargain.

The pie was a proper ‘growler’, packed with meat and potato and with a generous but soft crust - pie heaven for those of us who like that kind of thing.

I was sorely tempted to revisit the sweet treasures hiding behind the glass counter, some of the cakes looked more-ish in the extreme. But to be honest, the pie and peas had done its job and I had to concede defeat.

So replete, I stepped back into the present day leaving this little time capsule of a cafe behind me; the contended murmurs from the many tables acting as a soundtrack for my re-entry into the big wide world.

But now I’ve discovered the unique charm of Swales, I think I might be tempted to indulge in a little more time travelling in future.