'Rodney Marsh?" Frances wants to know why we're visiting the blond ex-clown prince of English football. "No, dear. Romney Marsh. The area in Kent between Hythe and Rye." "Is he still playing?" she wonders. Welcome, dear reader, to my life.

Romney Marsh turns out to be more or less empty of ex-footballers, or anyone else, for that matter. Once off the M20 and on the Marsh's flat single-track roads, we pass few people save for some blokes flying model airplanes, a few cyclists enjoying the absence of hills and cheerful couples cheerfully ambling, rather than rambling. There are blackberries on the brambles, elderberries on the elders, and thousands of fluffy sheep grazing the marshy grass.

It's the sheep that have drawn us to Romney Marsh. They're a chubby lot, and are left out in the fields all year. This hardy existence causes them to put on extra fat, which marbles their meat, making it moist and tasty. "In meat, fat is where the flavour is ... " I drone. "Yes, dear." Frances's attention is distracted by the charming 13th-century church of St Augustine, whose wooden bell tower is alongside, rather than above it. My attention is drawn to the inn alongside the church, so, after admiring the medieval piscina, an aumbry, a double sedilia (the rare lead font) and the internal flying buttresses, we find ourselves propping up the bar at the Royal Oak.

This place takes its food seriously, so, a half-jar of hoppy Harveys bitter later, it's lunch for us on the back terrace overlooking the ancient graveyard. There's peace here, and a strong sense of long traditions. The Royal Oak was built in 1570 as a house connected to the church. We read that the original licence granted to one Jacob Ferriss stated that "he may suffer ale to be tippled in his house, but may not suffer ale to be tippled during divine service". As the sun beams down, we are brought nice bread and wine, and order fish, then lamb.

Since the village of Brookland was bypassed by the A259, the masses now swing by on their way to Rye, leaving the place blissfully quiet. Today, they've missed out on a lovely old-fashioned starter of poached salmon, trout and haddock with dill mayonnaise that shows the chef has a sure hand: he used to cook at Canterbury cathedral, we're told. Everything served here is supplied by local businesses, especially the Romney Marsh lamb, which is served as pinkly perfect leg steaks, with green beans, a grilled mushroom and just-dug new potatoes. Marsh lamb has its own special salty character - in Normandy, it's called pré-salée - and ours is wondrously savoury. A blessedly warm slice of apple pie follows, served with ridiculously buttery honeycomb ice cream. We celebrate a lovely lunch. "Heaven," I murmur. Frances knocks back her tipple and says: "Divine."

· The Royal Oak, Brookland, Romney Marsh, Kent (01797 344215). Lunch for two, around £60. B&B from £25. kenttourism.co.uk.