Amidst these days of fast food, ready meals, technology, smart phones and a time poor/cash rich existence, according to an endlessly depressing list of polls and surveys, families rarely, if ever, sit round a table together long enough to to eat. So you’d think that the tradition of Sunday lunch would be long gone.

And yet, reassuringly, it’s a habit we refuse to give up, clinging on for dear life, relishing the only remaining opportunity for communal eating, drinking and revelling, with both hands.

If you can’t be bothered to cook a roast yourself, there are plenty of places only too happy to do it for you. The Thatch is one of them, recently awarded Best Sunday Lunch and Best Place to Drink in the South East Of England category of The Observer Food Awards, meaning you might never leave the Thame pub of a Sunday.

Glad that we had booked, The Thatch was absolutely rammed with people already in the know about how good the roasts are, each vacated table immediately filled again by people waiting at the bar.

There is a light, airy, tasteful dining room at the back and then the more poky, dark, wonderfully historical part of the pub at the front. We were sat in a particularly corner next to the wine cellar, where much skulduggery must have taken place over the centuries.

Given the obligatory menus, we gave them a token glance, holding out for the specials board, nibbling at a warm loaf and garlic butter while we waited for the main event.

The roasts on offer were Aubrey Allen’s rump of beef, a Cornish leg of lamb, the Long Crendon Manor loin of posh pork (all £14.50) or the veggie option; a spinach, mushroom, cashew and hazelnut roast (£13.50) all of which came with autumn greens, root vegetable puree, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings and lashings of gravy. We even ordered the extras – cauliflower cheese and a braised red cabbage (£3.50 each).

Sold to the unnervingly hungry looking family in the corner. So much for communal banter and witty conversation, because once our meals arrived we ate in utter silence as we got stuck in, only the noise of knives and forks punctuating our concentration, and the odd query for more gravy (served in jugs) or drinks.

The service was second to none, manager Evelin Rae collecting a marvellous team around her.

The meat was cooked beautifully, the beef served according to preference, in our case pink. The smaller children had half portions which suited them perfectly, their plates still brimming with goodies. One also opted for the veggie roast, which was rather earnest and nutty, more like a savoury nougat bar, but the Yorkshire puddings were a marvel to behold – crisp on top, chewy and soft underneath, the perfect foil for some beautifully roasted potatoes, autumnal puréed veg, and zesty greens (a lightly stir fried cabbage and courgette), all placed in bowls and dotted around the table. Throw in the cheesy cauliflower and the sharp, sweet red cabbage and our lives were complete. Honestly we are that easy to please. Of course we had dessert, it’s that time of year when roasts and pudding with custard become so much more appealing. My pear and quince frangipane tart was rather disappointing though, little evidence of the sweet almond or sharpness of the quince. The ice cream, on the other hand, was out of this world – the banana, and the chocolate orange flavours in particular, all served in a waffle cone, were so good I nearly did a hit and run. The apple, cinnamon and sultana strudel with custard striking all the right notes in terms of comfort food.

A quick coffee and we were gone, leaving little time to sit and reflect on the wonderful feast served at this Peach Pub (Peach also boasts The Fishes, and Witney’s Fleece).

And as we left I glanced at the table in the window, a family of three generations all catching up over a Sunday roast and I rejoiced in this champion of the weekday meal.

A massive thumbs up from us then and a spur to make more effort to cook properly on Sundays, regardless of our busy lives.