In spite of the fact that we were due to eat a meal that our mother had slaved over for hours (eating before dinner = offending family) we simply had to try one (Jews eating pork + on the Sabbath = offending God). So, I rushed into the pub and with a maniacal look and wolf-like hungry fervour, demanded one to take-away. Then, back at the car, with the tension and sense of occasion normally reserved for unveiling a new art exhibition, I gracelessly tore the foil revealing an already-halved meaty jewel; the luxuriously golden yellow yolk (still somehow slightly runny), the thick pink rim of herby minced pork and the crisp coating of breadcrumbs.

Fighting all my naturally greedy instincts, I reluctantly handed sis her half and we savoured the coarse textured meat which hummed gently with sage, sufficiently salty and spiked with black pepper. The egg was beautifully preserved within the “pork shell” and the yolk a natural sauce, adding to the unctuousness. The breadcrumbs offered that vital crispy and crunchy textural contrast. Only the piquancy of some cornichons to cut throught the richness might have enhanced the eating experience.

After approximately thirty seconds we’d each devoured our share and sat for a moment, savouring the deliciousness and contemplating the prospect of getting another. However the combined guilt of God, our mother and gluttony prevented us from doing so. Unsurprisingly we were not all that hungry at dinner that evening.

However, the pub does have more to offer than Scotch Eggs, such as good, traditional pub dishes cooked in a refined and pleasing way (no penne arrabbiata or Thai green curry here). The pub may well consider itself a “gastropub” but it is the Bull and Last’s simplicity and self-assuredness that cements its appeal. Downstairs, it is what a modern pub should be; a place to eat, drink and talk. No pretentious or themed decor in this attractive, high-ceilinged venue, but instead on the ground floor; a dominant bar (as all real pubs should have), wooden floor, a few sturdy wooden tables, a fireplace (I love fireplaces!) and large windows that welcome in natural light. I take issue with one decorative feature, namely the many tankards hung on one of the walls. Surely being used as mere ornaments is a waste of their natural talents? Similarly the 1st floor dining room is spacious and light, although we weren’t sure if the ceiling was unfinished or “intentionally rustic”?

When I have eaten in, I’ve ordered the braised pig cheeks, prunes, mash (well flavoured and executed but the combination was too similar in texture) and then rhubarb crumble with horseradish ice-cream to follow, which was both tart and sweet. The unusual but pleasant warming heat from the horseradish rounded the rhubarb’s tartness.

On another occasion, I’ve shared the monstrously sized beef and mushroom pie for two, which my fellow pie-eater and I confidently and greedily stated we could finish without each other’s assistance (as one slim diner apparently recently did, according to our very pleasant waiter). The beef was moist and tender, accompanied by ravy and wine-infused mushrooms. The gravy was good albeit slightly lacking in depth of flavour. The top layer of pastry was light and flaky and too addictive, however to me a pie is not truly a pie unless it is double crusted. No dessert this time as I had already gorged myself on my excellent starter of rabbit terrine, pork rillettes (shredded confit pork) brawn (pig head terrine) which I supplemented with a wholly unnecessary but very welcome Scotch Egg and the anchovies marinated in a vinegary brine.

Although not perfect, this is a model for all pubs to follow and it would be somehow irksome were it completely perfect, I suppose. Reasonably priced good food (£5-£9 starters, £13-£22 mains), a wide variety of good wines, spirits and beers and a self-confidence which allows them to stick to what they know and do best.