Peter Stubbs put in a long day of haymaking in his fields at Kinninvie this week before getting into his car at dusk to potter round Teesdale's byways.

With wife Gladys at his side he toured for an hour, looking for visiting vehicles or lurking strangers - this was the farmer in his other mode as chairman of the area's crime-fighting Farmwatch project.

More than 30 volunteers go on duty during autumn and winter, when thieves are at their sneakiest. "But I like to cast an eye over things in summer as well as there are still some unsavoury characters on the prowl," said Peter.

He goes on patrol at least five nights a week. When he sees anything suspicious Gladys writes down details and calls police on a mobile telephone.

Thefts have gone down markedly since he launched the scheme ten years ago. "Before that all sorts vanished just about every night," he recalled.

A WOMAN was overheard in Eggleston the other day telling a companion with disdain: "He didn't have much about him and was a terrible pudding spoiler." It turned out the culprit was a parson who spoke too long on Sundays, so by the time everyone got home the pudding was spoilt. I inquired if this was Yorkshires or the sweet kind. "It didn't matter," she rasped. "Clergy who didn't know when to stop could spoil the whole ruddy dinner. There were quite a few round here. Folks wouldn't put up with it now."

The late Hugh Proctor probably wasn't a pudding spoiler but his attendances were often so thin when he was vicar of Forest that not many meals would be ruined.

He told me sometimes nobody turned up but he still went through the full service, knowing families around the upper dale would see the lights on and realise it was taking place on their behalf.

I went there one Sunday and was the only member of the congregation, apart from Clarrie Beadle, a farmer at Whey Syke, who acted as sidesman and came round for the collection.

When I called at the vicarage another day Hugh apologised for the newspapers on the bare boards of the stairs being muddy. "The bishop's coming tomorrow and I have to show respect so I'll put some clean papers down," he said.

His favourite paper was the Sporting Life, which he studied each day before sending a bet to a bookmaker. "I don't think God likes me backing horses." he said. "He doesn't let me win very often."

A snazzily-suited gent from Newcastle was in Barnard Castle lately trying to identify a shop which, as he put it, figured in a costly legal battle and mock gun conflict a long while ago.

I directed him to the Victoria Wine off-licence in Horsemarket.

In 1903 its owner, fishmonger and poultry merchant John Harris, asked the urban council for consent to extend the front a foot on to the pavement. He was twice refused but did the work anyway. The dispute went all the way to the Lord Chief Justice before Harris won.

During the row pranksters wheeled a Boer War cannon and left it with a sign saying "Surrender or Die". The wily shopman put up his proud reply: "No Surrender". The publicity did his takings no harm at all.

* I'll be glad to see anyone who calls with snippets of news at The Northern Echo office at 36 Horsemarket, Barnard Castle, on Mondays and Tuesdays, telephone (01833) 638628.