The Tan Hill Inn is a pub steeped in history. High up on the moors in North Yorkshire, it’s one of those places where it [...]]]> As a title I think that is the first time I have managed to use those words together, yet that kind of sums up the morning I had today.

The Tan Hill Inn is a pub steeped in history. High up on the moors in North Yorkshire, it’s one of those places where it is a pleasure to get stranded, largely thanks to the staff and the famous Black Sheep Ales they serve.

However, as I’m sure I’ve said before, Tan Hill Inn is no ordinary pub. It’s unique. One of those rare to find places where just about anything can happen, and ask any of the regulars or staff and they’ll tell you it usually does.

Most people know it for the double-glazing and solar panel adverts off the TV, but the media spotlight hasn’t spoilt the character of the people or the place at Great Britain’s highest pub at 1732 feet above sea level. So when I was asked to get a photograph, I knew where I would be heading, though as usual, nothing really prepared me for what was to come.

My mission this morning was to get a photograph of the pub with the flag of the Falkland Islands outside as part of a campaign on Twitter to support the self-determination of the islanders. However, my plan of checking it was ok with the staff and getting a quick photograph of the flag draped over the tub under the pub sign quickly unravelled. Whenever you pull into the parking spaces outside the pub, you kind of expect a little weirdness. Not too long ago a bright orange tracked vehicle (think tank, but with a passenger cabin rather than a gun) was the company car parked outside. I’ve seen the place inundated with Minis and Morris Minors before, as the more ‘normal’ motor-bikes during the summer months. This morning there was a Peugeot Rally Car. Nothing out of the ordinary you may think, except that was parked next to Starsky & Hutch, who were next to the Trumpton Fire Brigade, who were next the USS Enterprise. In the other direction lay a Batmobile parked opposite the Ghostbusters. A bit unusual for 10:30am in the middle of nowhere on the moors, on a Saturday morning. A man dressed as a ballet dancer crossed the road and went inside.

I went into the pub and it was packed. Teas, coffees, bacon sandwiches all round, with the staff taking it all in their stride.

Standing at the bar with a mug of coffee, I turned to my left and asked a Ghostbuster “Stag do?” (That’s possibly the weirdest sentence I’ve ever written.) Without interfering with my Protons, the Ghostbuster told me they were fundraising for Tabitha’s Toys, a Weardale based registered charity set up in memory of Tabitha Lees-Moore to help other children with Edwards Syndrome by providing sensory toys and environments. Feeling a little weird on the drive to Tan Hill in explaining what I was doing, I had been out-weirded in fantastic style by this lot. I went on to tell the Ghostbuster what I was up to and seizing the moment asked if they would allow me to take a photograph of them below the Tan Hill Sign. They agreed, but I suggested to avoid a riot we should wait until they had finished their bacon butties.

Walking out to the car to get the flag I passed a rather tired looking chef. It’s fair to say his morning had been busier than expected. As we both looked at the assembled cars I said “Only at Tan Hill eh?” Through his laughter he agreed he was just thinking the same. So here they are, “The Tan Hill Mob” as I’ve called them, posing with the flag of the Falkland Islands to support the islanders’ right to self-determination.

So thanks to all for being photographed. Let’s hope that the government of Argentina realise that the islanders have the Ghostbusters, Starsky & Hutch, Spock, Mr Wharf, Batman & Robin, the Trumpton Fire Brigade and the rest of guys supporting their right to self-determination.

N.B. The Legal Bit: The people pictured in the photograph all took part in their capacity as private individuals, not as representatives of the charity.

There are many I could recall, my generation’s Kennedy moment, September 11 2001, starting & selling my first business, graduation and my first published article. All [...]]]>

Image via Wikipedia

After seeing a friend referring to a CD he had performed on comment “Thirteen Years ago, how time flies” I started to think about momentous periods of my life.

There are many I could recall, my generation’s Kennedy moment, September 11 2001, starting & selling my first business, graduation and my first published article. All special moments in time, however none affected more than the events that spiralled out of control on 2^nd April 1982.

The only significance for many people of that date will be it is the day after April Fools Day. However, for a number of people in a British Overseas Territory, that day changed their lives forever. Forces of the military junta governing Argentina invaded the Falkland Islands and South Georgia.

Before that day, living and growing up in the North East of England I had never even heard of the Falkland Islands. I was 15 at the time when the news broke in England. I had grown up with a background of news reports from “The Troubles” in Northern Ireland, but this was my first real experience of war. In fact, I would say this was the first war that TV covered.

Like having your extended family attacked, I remember my school friends, my town and my country uniting in condemnation of the action of Argentina. It became a basis for schoolyard fights, woe betide anyone who didn’t back the people of the Falklands. Of course as school kids, we had no concept of the horror of war, being held hostage or a foreign government exercising power over us and denying the rights we simply take for granted. But our well-intentioned support, if somewhat naively offered, was there.

The media landscape was very different back in 1982. Only three television channels existed. Breakfast television would not be launched until the following year. The BBC Microcomputer was less than a year old, as was Sinclair’s ZX-81, with the brand new ZX-Spectrum being launched on 23 April of that year, appropriately St Georges day for another ground-breaking British invention. The Internet had yet to be even imagined. Radio Tees (not to be confused with BBC Tees of today) was my local commercial radio station and chances are, you would be listening to music on AM rather than FM.

At that time of my life, I was more interested in being out and about with friends, however, once the news broke, the streets became deserted. Instead of being out on our bikes or in the nearby woods, across the town, children returned home. We ended up watching the daily news briefings delivered by John Nott MP, then the UK Defence Secretary.

From the moment the taskforce sailed in Royal Navy and requisitioned ships alike, news reporting changed. I lost track of the number of times I heard reporters say they couldn’t tell us where they were or where they were going. Or indeed that all important phrase used by Brian Hanrahan that let families back home know aircrew were safe “I counted them all out, and I counted them all back”. The news told us what they could, but it was far from the full story.

The military actions of the war are well documented; by the Ministry of Defence, by the media, by records showing who was mentioned in despatches and who were awarded medals.

But what of the unsung heroes? The islanders themselves. Who tells their story of being unarmed and in the heart of the action? Or what it was like to continue broadcasting at the local radio station when the studio was entered by Argentinian soldiers?

I think it was back in 2007, during the BBC’s Falklands 25 series that I heard a documentary that spent a little bit of time describing the “conflict” as the BBC would insist on calling it, from the islanders’ perspective. However it is a travesty this no longer remains online and available.

So I’ve decided to do the job myself. If I get agreement from islanders to be interviewed, as well as pull together the funding for the trip, I’ll be heading to the South Atlantic in 2012. Thirty years after our armed forces, I’ll be walking in the footsteps of heroes.

Eddie Chapman as he was known to friends, was born in Burnopfield in County Durham on 16 November 1914. Following his disertion from the Coldstream Guards during the 1930s, he [...]]]> Edward Arnold Chapman. Chances are you will have never heard of that name, but Agent ZigZag may be a bit more familiar to you.

Eddie Chapman as he was known to friends, was born in Burnopfield in County Durham on 16 November 1914. Following his disertion from the Coldstream Guards during the 1930s, he ended up scraping together a criminal living as a safecracker to several of London’s Gangs operating out of the West End. A natural charmer with the ‘up West’ set, he is thought to have had affairs with several society women, later blackmailing them with photographs taking by an associate.

Having fled to the Channel Islands to escape the law on the mainland, it wasn’t long before Chapman returned to his criminal ways, though he was soon caught in the small community living on Jersey after bungling a burglary. Sentenced to two years, he was still in prison when the Nazis invaded the islands. Seeing an opportunity to recruit a spy, the Nazis transferred him from the island prison to Fort de Romainville in occupied Paris.

Chapman recognised opportunity whenever it knocked, he offered his services to the Third Reich as a spy, operating on the UK mainland. His real intention was to spy on the Nazis for the British.

Parachuting back into the UK in December 1942, he immediately gave himself up the local Police, explained how he had got there and asked them to contact the fledgeling MI5. After extensive interrogation by MI5, Chapman was eventually engaged as a British agent, codenamed ZigZag.

He was later honoured by the Third Reich, with the Iron Cross for his work as a saboteur. Working with MI5, he managed to convince the Nazis he had destroyed the De Havilland aircraft factory in Hatfield. The factory that had been manufacturing the Mosquito which had been causing so many problems for the regime. As well as the medal, he was given a yacht and 110,000 Reichmarks (approximately £22,000 at the time – a huge sum) as a personal reward.

Later the Nazis would send Chapman to Norway, then back to Britain, to report on the targeting of the infamous V1 rockets, the doodle-bugs. He repeatedly reported the V1 rockets were hitting central London, when in truth, they were falling well short in counties further south, saving countless numbers of lives.

His life was the main subject of the 1966 film “Triple Cross”, a film that Chapman was due to take a consultancy role on, however this was prevented when the French government refuse to have him in the country as he was still wanted from crimes he had allegedly committed there.

Chapman, having survived all sorts of dangerous situations throughout his life, eventually died in December 1997.

Some of us never thought the bridge would still be [...]]]>

Image via Wikipedia

As famous as Tyneside’s Angel of the North, but with a much longer lineage, The Transporter Bridge, iconic symbol of Teesside is 100 years old today.

Some of us never thought the bridge would still be in service due to the many threatened closures over the years.

When the team from Auf Wiedersehen Pet arrived to dismantle the bridge in order to sell it to an American Indian Nation, there were howls of protest, with angry phone calls both to the media and the council. It would seem even a threat in a fictional television could stir the passions of Teesside to protect their famous landmark.

Image via Wikipedia

All a very far cry from the day Prince Arthur of Connaught opened the bridge back on the 17 October 1911.

Remarkably the bridge survived the German bombing raids of Teesside during World War Two, its cradle carrying passengers, as well as vehicles of all sizes, over the water, Middlesbrough in the south, Port Clarence in the north.

The structure itself is occasionally opened to allow people to take the long way, up and over the top, not for the faint hearted, but it does provide spectacular views of the surrounding area. Then there are those strange people who make the climb to the top but want a quicker way down. They jump, attached by elasticated ropes. With the cradle tucked to one of the banks, I’m told the bridge provides the ideal bungee platform, with the jumpers being picked up by boat once they have made their leap.

Since the bridge is 100 years old, I wonder if the team received a telegram from Her Majesty the Queen? We’ll never know.

Arthur Stanley Jefferson, one of four children of Arthur Sr and Magaret Jefferson, was born at his grandparent’s house in Argyle Street, Ulveston, Cumbria on 16th June 1890. We know him, as Stan Laurel.

His parents, both actors, moved to Bishop Auckland in County Durham and managed the Theatre Royal on Newgate Street. Stan’s [...]]]>

Arthur Stanley Jefferson, one of four children of Arthur Sr and Magaret Jefferson, was born at his grandparent’s house in Argyle Street, Ulveston, Cumbria on 16^th June 1890. We know him, as Stan Laurel.

His parents, both actors, moved to Bishop Auckland in County Durham and managed the Theatre Royal on Newgate Street. Stan’s father was active in the theatre refurbishment and it subsequently reopened as The Eden Theatre, at the junction of Newgate Street and South Church Road, not far from the family home at 66 Princes Street.

The young Stan was christened in St Peter’s Church and later attended King James I Grammar School as a bording pupil. The school building is now a grade 2 listed building, however tragedy struck in 2007 when the school building was almost totally destroyed by fire.

The building remains under scaffold today.

After world war two, the theatre was bought by Solly Sheckman and the 1500 seat theatre was absorbed into the many venues already owned by the

Essoldo company. Theatre went into a decline, with people preferring to see films rather than pay actors to put on live performances and Eden Theatre closed in 1969, with the building being demolished five years later.

Today, the site is known as Theatre Corner, at the junction of Newgate and South Church Road, both main routes through the town. It is on the north western corner of the junction, just near to the road itself, where you will find the statue of Stan Laurel, in a classic scratching his head pose, in front of several cans of film.

Stan left British soil in 1910, aged 20, to head for the USA where he hoped to get involved in the acting and movie business. Known at the time as Stan Jefferson, he became Stan Laurel in 1917 and the rest, as they is history. The enduring partnership of Laurel & Hardy still entertains decades later. Such is the fondness in the town for the comedy partnership that an appreciation, The Hog Wild Tent of the Sons of the Desert was formed.

Stan died, at the age of 74 on 23^rd February 1965 in Santa Monica, California USA. His self-penned epitaph simply read “If anyone at my funeral has a long face, I’ll never speak to them again.”

Typical Stan.

Theatre Corner in 2011

In Stanhope, in the upper end of Weardale of County Durham, traffic sweeps along the [...]]]> What is the largest fossil you have ever seen? The size of your thumb? The palm of your hand? Your head? How about the size of a tree trunk?

In Stanhope, in the upper end of Weardale of County Durham, traffic sweeps along the A689 through the town. Many drivers pass the tourist information centre without even glancing, however just inside the wall of the Dales Centre you will find one of the wonders of nature. You will notice the wall dips at one point. This isn’t the result of vandalism or natural erosion. Look beyond the wall and you will see a tree trunk that has been cut off. You may wonder why anyone would cut a tree like this, but if you look a little closer you will see that this particular tree, is not made of wood.

The plaque on the wall informs us that the tree grew in a forest near Edmundbyers Cross, around 250 million years ago. As the tree decayed, the wood and sap was replaced by ganister, a type of sandstone which is made up of a hard, fine-grained silicon-dioxide. The ganister formed a perfect reproduction of the tree, which had been at 1550 feet above sea level north of Stanhope on the way to Muggleswick.

The fossil tree was transported to Stanhope in 1962 under the supervision of a Mr J Beaston and has remained in the town since.

No visit to the Durham Dales Centre is complete without viewing the tree which can often be seen surrounded by day-trippers during summer months.

I recently encountered a scheme that would allow for both. Well ok the worldwide travel would be a virtual thing.

If you read, or have a surplus of books at home, take a look at the Ever wanted to travel the world? Want to attract a different niche of customers to your business?

I recently encountered a scheme that would allow for both. Well ok the worldwide travel would be a virtual thing.

If you read, or have a surplus of books at home, take a look at the Book Crossing website. Books you no longer require can, quite literally be set free to travel the world.

If you run a shop, café, bar or restaurant, in fact anywhere the public are welcome to come in and browse, you could get your business into the Book Crossing network increasing the footfall at your door.

How does it work?

Essentially you need do no more than set aside a little space in your venue. This could start with a single shelf or a corner on a table. Register your initial batch of books, stick the labels in the front of each one and you’re away. You are now part of the Book Crossing network. It really is as easy as that.

When people bring books in, ensure each title is registered on the Book Crossing website so it can be tracked as it travels the globe. People are then free to take books away, read them, return them to your venue or set them free elsewhere.

Some titles on the system have been left in such diverse places as an airport, on a busy commuter train or even in a telephone box.

Surprisingly, the system rarely gets abused. People respect the rules of network. Taking, reading and releasing, and I think this is largely due to the fact the books can all be tracked via the Book Crossing website. You do actually get to see the journey each book makes as well as interact with other users of the system.

Why not search for your nearest outlet or Zone as they are called? There are over 5,000 in the UK alone, though if there isn’t one near you, you could always ask your local café to start one, or even start a Book Crossing Zone yourself.

Happy hunting.

I recently spent a day travelling through Weardale in Western County Durham.
However, instead of driving up the dale on the A689, I decided to relax and take a trip on the Weardale Railway.

The railway in Weardale dates back to the 1840s and originally operated as an extension [...]]]>

I recently spent a day travelling through Weardale in Western County Durham.
However, instead of driving up the dale on the A689, I decided to relax and take a trip on the Weardale Railway.

The railway in Weardale dates back to the 1840s and originally operated as an extension to the Stockton & Darlington railway, the first passenger railway service in the world. The passenger service continued until 1953 when the trains stopped running on 29th June.

This signified the death-knell for the line and by 1961 the freight service to Wearhead, at the top end of the dale, also came to an end.

Freight services from Eastgate were bolstered in 1964, when the Cement Works was built. This used custom built wagons to transport finished product from the plant. Cement was taken eastwards, down the dale, for onward shipment from Teesside, Tyneside and Scotland finally coming to an end in 1993.

My journey on the 16 mile long Weardale Railway started at Bishop Auckland, or more precisely, Bishop Auckland West Station. Originally I had gone to the main station at Bishop Auckland but found a sign telling passengers who wanted to use the Weardale service that they needed to use a platform that had been purpose-built behind B&Q. This wasn’t too much of a problem to get to, but was a 10 minute walk away. The other criticism I had at this point was the hopelessly inadequate car parking facilities at Bishop Auckland station. Having failed to get parked there, I decided to try the Morrisons car park. You can pay to park here, but there is a maximum stay of two hours. Not enough for a day in the dales. I didn’t want to risk getting clamped in the B&Q or Halfords car parks (I didn’t see any signs but assumed they wouldn’t be happy if a non-customer parked there) so I ended up parking in one of the back streets, using local knowledge. This is something the council need to address as a matter of urgency.

Arriving at Bishop Auckland West station I had a few minutes wait before the train arrived, bang on time.

The picture to the left shows the new track being laid approaching Bishop Auckland West station. Just out of shot on the right is the water tower that will be used to refill the steam engines before they start their journey back up the dale.

The day I travelled wasn’t a heritage day, so the train used was a diesel unit that originally started life in the 1950s.

It has to be said, it wasn’t the most glamourous looking train, but it did have a hidden gem inside. That came in the form of Ticket Inspector, Derek Snell, who rather than merely nodding an acknowledgement, the type of thing you’d be lucky to get travelling on a main-line train, said “Welcome aboard the Weardale Railway sir.” He quickly established this was my first time travelling on the line and shortly after we pulled out of the station, he started to provide a commentary. The schools had started their term, so there was just me and one regular travelling, so I got to tap into this man’s knowledge of the line virtually unimpeded.

As we travelled Derek pointed out landmarks, wildlife and delivered anecdotes, that ensured the time flew by. He showed me pictures of the stations along the line from the 1800s so I could get a real sense of the “then and now” only revealing the next station a few minutes before we arrived so the images were still fresh.

Along the route there are a couple of unmanned crossings. Now to the casual observer you would expect these to have automatic barriers installed, however, Weardale is a little bit different. On approach to these crossings the driver has to halt the train before reaching the crossing. The guard then has to climb down from the front of the train with his red flag and ensure all traffic is stopped and nobody is about to cross the line. Once the guard decides all is safe, he waves the train on. The train then stops one more time, to allow the guard to climb back on board the train at the rear. Derek explained each stage of the process and the safety reasons for why things were done in a certain way. This happens a couple of times along the route and I couldn’t help but remember the scene in The Railway Children film, where Perks, played by Bernard Cribbons, has to close the gates.

We continued on through Wolsingham station, where, like other stations on the line, an information board had been placed giving details of a lovely circular walk and historical information about the area. Taking the time to read these boards does add so much to the experience along the line.

Passing Wolsingham depot, we spotted the coal train that runs on the line. This freight service takes coal from an open cast mine at Tow Law. It passes down the Weardale Railway ending up in Lincolnshire where the coal is used in power stations. As the coal train is a commercial service, it takes priority on the line which is a single track laid between Bishop Auckland and Stanhope.

Talking with Derek, I learned that there are two organisations involved. The private owner of the line has a train operating company and there is the Weardale Railway Trust which has a 12.5% stake in the operating company. The trust owns the rolling stock used to provide the community railway service as well as the heritage steam services and during the extremely bad snow last year, it provided a vital link for passengers coming down the dale to get food and supplies from Bishop Auckland.

Like most charitable ventures the trust is constantly fund-raising, putting on themed events, offering membership of the trust, but for people living in local postal districts there is a very special deal available offering substantial discounts on fares.

All too soon, the journey was over and I reached Stanhope station.

Ticket Inspector Derek ensured I was fully aware of the return train times available before I left the train. He also gave me a few tips of things to do and see in Stanhope as well, removing his Inspector hat to become a local tourist guide.

After spending some time in and around Stanhope, I decided to get an earlier train than originally planned. This terminated at Wolsingham and gave ample time to have a look around there as well. The General Manager of the line, who was acting as a guard on the eastbound train came out of the drivers cab where he had been briefly sitting, to tell me he had asked the driver to stop at the west end of the platform, as this would give me a shorter route into the village. I was stunned. Between this and Derek acting as my personal historian, tour guide and wildlife ranger, the Weardale Railway had left me feeling like royalty.

I had a great walk in the sunshine around Wolsingham, taking in the local shops, as well as a quick trip to the gents. There was even time for a swift pint before I returned to the station for my final leg back to Bishop Auckland.

The fee for my return journey was £10.40. Well worth the money in my opinion as I would probably have almost as much as that, travelling the route by car, yet seeing only a fraction of what I was able to from the train.

If you wish to travel on, or more importantly support, Weardale Railway, please check their website for further details.