Two weeks ago, in a small church hall in north London, my three-year-old son picked up his Transformers lunchbox, said goodbye to a few of his friends and gave an end-of-term cuddle to the women who work at the nursery he attends four mornings a week. It was the end of term and summer holidays beckoned.

Our nursery isn't especially fancy. The hall is a little worse for wear. The toys are not particularly new. Unlike some of the other nurseries in the neighbourhood, it doesn't do organic food, it doesn't have guinea pigs for the children to take care of or a vegetable patch where they can grow carrots. Come to think of it, it doesn't have much outdoor space at all. Occasionally, the children go to the playground in a rather grim council estate nearby and I have persuaded myself that the bratty kids who once pelted me with water-filled balloons from the same playground have moved to another town.

Yet in spite of all of this, my son loves the nursery, my wife and I do and so do all of the other parents and kids. Why? The main reason, it seems to me, is the owner and founder who runs it with an assured calm that speaks to her longstanding experience, her understanding of the market and her ability to make the most of her small business by trying to create a community between us and the staff. She sets the tone.