THE classified death notices the other day recorded the passing of two of the Hear All Sides page’s most familiar correspondents, part of the essential fabric of the paper.

Ernie Reynolds, indeed, was reckoned the most prolific of all – ahead of Hugh Pender of Darlington – when these things were scrutinised in 2002. He also contributed to the poetry column:

When I went to Peterlee

I fell and tripped and broke my knee.

I’ll still go, I’ll never stop

But now, of course, I have to hop.

Ernie lived in Wheatley Hill, was a former RAF fireman, made occasional forays into these columns’ airspace, too.

How else might we have known that SWALK, the sweethearts’ sign-off, was (allegedly) returned with NORWICH, an acronym rather ruder? It stood, insisted Ernie, for “(K)nickers off ready when I come home.”

Bless him, he was 91.

ETHEL HAND, who was 96, was a lifelong Bishop Auckland lass, remained properly protective of the old place and was a bit of a Thatcherite, too – “the Prime Minister who saved this country from ruin,” she once wrote to HAS, though there were Bishop folk who might not wholly have agreed.

The town’s history, she also wrote, was being whittled away. The newish statue of Stan Laurel was, she thought, a complete waste of money.

She even sent immaculately written Christmas cards, dropped notes on other occasions, too. Bishop Auckland, and readers throughout the North-East, will miss her.

THE following day’s classifieds gave details of the Durham Cathedral funeral for Neil Fingleton, known to Game of Thrones viewers as Mag the Mighty and at 7ft 7in Britain’s tallest man. An obituary in the same day’s Times recorded the efforts of his mum Christine – herself a six-footer – to sate the lad’s eternal hunger. “It was like feeding an elephant strawberries,” she said.

FUMBLING through the archive for memories of Ethel and Ernie, I come across a Gadfly paragraph on affectionately-remembered Newton Aycliffe councillor and successful windmill-tilter Tony Moore.

Regaining full fitness after a heart attack, seeking sanctuary from the stresses of local government, Tony had been enjoying a swim at Newton Aycliffe leisure centre where overtaken by a constituent – a crawler, no doubt.

“Sorry to bother you, Tony,” he said, “but can you do anything about my daughter’s council house?”

A few months later, March 2001, Tony died from another heart attack – while swimming at the leisure centre. Whether he’d just been asked if could sort someone’s council house problems is, sadly, not recorded.

THESE are melancholy musings, though it’s probably coincidental upon recent references to the death of Geoff Hill – our old English teacher at Bishop Auckland Grammar School – that Ron Powell emails about Spennymoor Town Council’s annual quiz, tomorrow evening.

“A traditional quiz, but with modern flare and finesse,” says the flyer, suggesting that they may be expecting fireworks, too. Or perhaps the council just meant flair.

“'Flare’ and ‘flair’ were standard stuff from my old English teacher,” says Ron, as no doubt they had been for Geoff Hill.

I couldn’t make the funeral; Bob Bacon, another old boy, did. Sarah, Geoff’s daughter, recalled that in an attempt to relieve staff room tedium he would frequently break into Oh I Do Like To Be Beside the Seaside, inviting a crowded crematorium not just to join in a final rendition in her dad’s honour but to do all the actions, too.

“Brilliant,” says Bob, and so it must have been.

A little more traditionally, they also sang Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, to which the second line is “Forgive our foolish ways.” Happily, though perhaps with reservations, Geoff always did.

THOSE of us who hang on to tell the tale will be comforted by a letter in The Times from Dr Malcolm Bateson, a retired consultant physician at Bishop Auckland General Hospital. It’s headed “Being overweight ‘is good for health’.”

Dr Bateson argues, and with statistical support, that those with an “ideal” body mass index have a shorter life expectancy than those deemed “moderately overweight”.

Weight manipulation by diet is “a minefield with lots of disappointments,” he adds.

It recalls an unexpected sojourn in Darlington Memorial, quite a long time ago. Wakeful, a wee bit worried and, most of all, bored rigorous, I fell in the middle of the night to reading the notes clipped to the end of the bed. “BMI: normal” it said.

Manifestly it was mistaken, but at 3am on Ward 43 there may never have been more effective medicine.

OUR recent note about interminable hours waiting for buses at Scotch Corner stirred memories for Pam Davison, who endured similar privations half a century ago.

Her husband ran the Scotch Corner garage, they lived in a bungalow across the road, she worked at Motor Delivery in Darlington.

“In the winter it was terrible, the wind and the rain and the snow. I remember leaving my hair in rollers, covering my head tightly with a scarf and going straight to the ladies’ room at work to do my hair and make-up.”

The other problem was that the house was on the other side of the road from the garage, requiring her husband to tunnel a way across through the blizzards. The record was two days. These days intending bus passengers inhale near-toxic levels of carbon monoxide, but at least it no longer snows.

I HAVE been cajoled onto an NUJ-organised panel this Friday to debate issues beneath the “Local News Matters” banner and amid continuing fears for the future of local and regional print media.

Other panellists include author and broadcaster Philippa Gregory and Julie Elliott, MP for Sunderland Central.

The public forum is in Sunderland City Council chamber: light refreshments from 12.30, heavy mob at 1pm. It’s expected to last for two hours and all are most welcome, once more to hear all sides.

The Northern Echo: Joe with local twins  Lucy and  Hannah in Fancy dress

Joe with local twins Lucy and  Hannah in Fancy dress

LIKE the delightful North Bay Railway itself, Joe Coates’s children’s books set on the miniature line above the sea at Scarborough seem set to run and run. On April 8 he launches the eighth.

Joe was a Shildon lad, just down the street, a good enough footballer to play for Darlington Reserves. He became a teacher, retired to Scarborough, wrote his first North Bay book eight years ago.

Sir Alan Ayckbourn, that other adopted son of Scarborough, thought them delightful – “lovely and should enchant younger readers with their atmosphere and characters.”

The latest is Tunnel Trouble on North Bay Railway, about what happens when a train full of children in fancy dress gets stuck in the dark.

Joe will be at the railway all day on April 8, when that and the other seven books will all be on sale and children in fancy dress will travel free with a paying adult. Details on northbay.com