IF a child’s bedroom was untidy, a south-west Durham grandmother might be heard to exclaim: “Eee, this place is like Stageybank Fair.”

Memories 177 explained that this was a reference to the annual gathering on Stagshaw Bank on the A68. Not unlike Appleby horse fair, “Stagsy Bank” was banned in the 1920s because of riotous, drunken behaviour and because the countryside was left in an appalling state akin to a grandchild’s bedroom.

This phrase was once heard all over the North-East – although it didn’t always mean the same thing.

“My grandmother, from Southwick, in Sunderland, used a similar term,” emails Hilary André. “She, however, said “Staysha Bank Fair”

and it wasn’t just for a mess – it was also used when there was a crush of people. It was many years before I found the actual spot on the A68, during a visit to Corbridge.”

Hilary is a former teacher and used a painting titled A Border Fair, by mid-Victorian artist John Ritchie, to bring the saying to life for her pupils.

“As you can see, the artist used a bit of licence as the view of Corbridge in the distance is not quite realistic,” she says. “It does seem very crowded, though.”

MEMORIES 179 told the story of the Surtees family of Redworth Hall, near Shildon. The Surtees, we said, were descended from Siward who came over with William the Conqueror in 1066 and was given the important crossing of the River Tees at Dinsdale, near Middleton St George, to keep watch on.

David Hogg emails to say we were not quite correct.

In fact, Siward was in the North- East long before William did any conquering. Siward was a Dane, whose mother was a noblewoman and whose father was a big white bear. This man born of bear was remarkably strong, and was one of the noblemen that King Cnut placed in charge of the north of England.

In 1041, Siward killed Earl Eadulf and took control of everything north of the Tees. He ruled brutally, mutilating and killing miscreants, which made Northumbria a safe place to live – as long as you weren’t a miscreant.

Siward often invaded Scotland.

When he was told that one of his sons had been killed attacking the Scots, he immediately asked if he’d been wounded in the front or the back. When told the front, Siward rejoiced, as it meant his son had died a brave death – if he’d been hit in the back, he would have been running away.

Siward was ashamed when, in 1055, he realised he was going to die of dysentery rather than be killed slugging it out on the battlefield.

He asked that he be dressed in his armour, and he passed away in York holding his battleaxe and his shield – a soldier’s death.

After 1066, Siward’s descendants did welcome William the Conqueror – they probably helped him conquer the North-East. Sensing that the French king was here to stay, they Frenchified their name to fit in with the mood of the times.

The Northern Echo:
Saddler Street, Durham, in 1965 with the cocktail bar on the left, where Albert Curle was punched down the stairs by a bouncer for singing a Mick Jagger song into the telephone

Because their manor house was at Dinsdale on the Tees, they called themselves “Surtees”.

HERE’S a very different sort of story. Memories 180 featured two pages of 1960s pictures of Durham City. Albert Curle, of Ferryhill, spotted the sign of Tucker’s Cocktail Bar, in Saddler Street, and he was transported back to 1964, which was the year that the Rolling Stones had had a No 1 hit with Little Red Rooster.

Although the kids of today, with their digital downloads , won’t understand, the b-side of the Stones’ single was Off the Hook.

In the cocktail bar, which was part of the Buffalo Head pub, Albert spotted a telephone. “I started larking about by repeatedly picking up the receiver and singing ‘it’s off the hook, it’s off the hook’,” says Albert.

As you may guess, beer was helping the singing sound pretty good, until a stout bouncer came over.

“The next thing I knew was that he punched me,” says Albert, “sending me flying from the top to the bottom of the stairs, landing heavily on the last few steps on my behind.

“For the rest of the night, I could hardly walk, but I was not barred out – it was just another night in the Buffalo. Needless to say, collar and tie weren’t compulsory.”