This is The North East | News

Car's numberplate was such a scoop
ON a day so damp and so drear that you couldn't see a crash barrier in front of you, we almost literally bumped into the North-East Mini Club's treasure hunt on the North Yorkshire moors last Saturday.

The Bell who's good at ringing the changes
Mr Martin Bell, battlefront broadcaster and white-charged former MP, was guest speaker at the North-East Press Awards on Saturday evening. He was most impressive, the insistence that he and ITN colleague Sandy Gall had countenances like a relief map of the countries from which they reported giving new meaning to the term self-effacing.

Don't lose your bottle with words
THOUGH something of which Lord Reith would doubtless have disapproved, BBC3 is screening a comedy programme called Tittybangbang - described by the Radio Times as "disturbingly funny" and by the Financial Times as "wilfully repellent".

Anorakism - a sign of the times?
THE patron saint of journalists and writers is St Francis de Sales, a 17th century Bishop of Geneva who once famously remarked that more flies were attracted to a spoonful of honey than to a barrel full of vinegar.

Singing the praises of the saveloy
MR Alex Kapranos, lead singer of the Glaswegian band Franz Ferdinand, may never have expected to appear in one of these columns nor we, indeed, to have embraced him. Saveloys are to blame.

Wandering the Wilds of Wanney
THE No. 1 bus from Darlington to Tow Law sets out in much the same way as the Children of Israel may have accompanied Moses into the wilderness - that is to say, with considerable trepidation.

Mmmmmmother's pride
Mothering Sunday passed in filial fashion. The younger bairn sent a jolly card from Cardiff, where presently he practises the Noble Art, his brother cajoled his ailing motor car - a kick start, probably - northwards from Leeds.

Farewell then, great Philhellene
LITTLE wonder that folk first turn to the deaths column and not just, as the very old joke goes, to ensure their non-inclusion. There's so much life in there.

Nothing left in its Stead
EMBLETON is a village on the north Northumberland coast, tranquil save for karaoke night at the Greys Inn. Weather warning notwithstanding, we passed last weekend there.

Location, location, location!
LIKE many more residents of that fair city, Janet Murrell in Durham received an invitation last week to buy a "limited edition Durham luxury table lamp". It would cost Ł99.50, with a "certificate of authenticity" and 100 per cent satisfaction guaranteed.

Pass the swear box please, Winnie
WINNIE Richardson, now 73 and for 35 years a music teacher in south Durham, rings from Bishop Auckland on an indignant note.

A recurring case of vowel play
M GEORGES Perec (1936-82) was a French novelist said best to be remembered for two great works, both of them manifestly barmy. (The French may have a word for it, too.)

Putting in some donkey work
FIRSTLY today, Mr Ivor Wade in Darlington invites readers to peruse the following. "This is an unusual paragraph. I'm curious how quickly you can find out what is so unusual about it. It looks so plain, you would think nothing was wrong with it. In fact, nothing is wrong with it. It is unusual, though. Study it, and think about it, but you may still not find anything odd. But if you work at it a bit, you might find out. Try to do so without any coaching."

From Category D to A-list
STILL Bronze Age broadsheet, Saturday's Daily Telegraph devoted two mainmast pages to the joys of living in Durham - "simply the most beautiful cathedral city in England" - and its environs.

When Boney meets macaroni
A FEW minutes ago they changed the computer on this desk, and just as I was getting the hang of the old one. Not even 15 years had elapsed.

Memories of a marvellous three
THE envelope was marked "Private and confidential", the notepaper headed with the name of a firm of solicitors. A heart sink moment, as GPs are supposed to say of the appearance of particularly pesky patients.

A cold play on words
ALMOST all calls are welcome; almost none is newsworthy. Last wintry Wednesday someone rang to report that it was starvation out there - new meaning, perhaps, to cold calling.

On a roll with balls
PERHAPS the greatest of the little perquisites of being chairman of the league - you know, the Arngrove Northern League - is that you get both a half-time cup of tea beneath the stand and the invigorating debate which accompanies it.

A village built on booze
THE beer talking, as usual, last week's column wondered which town or city had had the most pubs per head. Newcastle, it was said, had had 446 pubs and beer houses for a mid-nineteenth century population of 88,748 - one for every 200 people, bibulous or otherwise.

A D for Dunce for Darlington
THE many Hear All Sides correspondents who presently suppose Darlington Council to be a) clueless b) obdurate c) undemocratic or d) barking mad may like to reflect upon municipal events of exactly 100 years ago.

A welcome that fits the bill
AN all-too frequent foray to the capital, we have been dining at the National Liberal Club, hung with portraits of great leaders down the ages. Almost coquettishly, Mr Jeremy Thorpe half hides behind a pillar.

Train trials and mystery tups
WHEN last the column appeared, a little challenge was set. Following the example of a Canadian newspaper, readers were invited to combine all or part of a well known place name with the name of a well known person - real or fictitious.

The biggest sidings in the kingdom
SIDINGS of comfort and joy, John Briggs comes across a 100-year-old postcard on ebay which confirms a long held belief: the railway marshalling yard at Shildon really was Britain's biggest.

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