John North: The joy to be found in a jumping flea

BALMY beggaring belief, it was the sort of glorious evening upon which you wished you could take decent photographs, or had a video camera or, preferably, which could dance on for a month.

The sort of night upon which the only worry in the world appears to be staying sober and, only narrowly having succeeded, reading your notes next morning.

Oh to be in Ouseburn, now that summer's here.

The Ouseburn Valley is barely a mile east of Newcastle city centre, from the Quayside and all its clamour, yet could be a million light years distant.

It's happy coincidence that the Ouseburn Festival runs from tomorrow until July 31, additional incentive for others to seek out the secret garden, too.

It had begun simply as a trip to the Cumberland Arms, a truly great pub, to enjoy both a couple of legs of morris dancing and the vicarious pleasure of watching someone else write about them.

Perhaps unique among English journalists, the column has huge regard for the skills and the stamina - but most of all the unabashed joyousness - of the morris.

Above the pub door, a plaque records that it was once run by Jocker Wood, publican and sportsman, who also had a place on Quality Row. It's now run by Michael Hodson, a barrister, and his admirable daughter, Jo.

Outside, both men's and women's morris and a rapper side are gathering, somewhat improbably, to celebrate Bastille Day. This was morris major.

"You're not allowed to break wind," says a spectator as a rapper dancer whisks by with the wind.

"Yes you are, it's the best bit," says the swordsman.

"It's the only bit," ripostes the spectator, enrapt nonetheless.

Bluntly beneath Byker bridge, more lyrically atop the Ouseburn valley, the pub is bordered by woodland walks down towards the village green and to the Tyne. Its wonderful views across river and city make the Sage not so smart after all.

Hand-pulled beer and cider is all locally sourced, food is simple, inexpensive and perfect, the book shelves offer everything from The History of Private Eye to the Literary Review, the gents' has bare bricks and the ladies' is papered with the Beano and Dandy, once again underlining the inequality of the sexes.

One of several exceedingly amiable bar staff had won The Weakest Link. "Anne Robinson wasn't particularly nice to me," she says, "but afterwards she shook my hand and was smashing."

Once the area around Ouseburn was Newcastle's industrial heartland, famed for its glass making and pottery. Long forgotten, its fortunes have revived remarkably since the Ouseburn Trust was formed in 1996 to embrace, says its website, community, heritage and environmental concerns. Outside developers have been resisted; Newcastle and the locals have done it themselves.

"The Ouseburn hasn't really altered, it's just its profile which has," says George Welch. "In a way it would be good to keep it secret. There's enough people here already."

The area would richly repay a visit, for all that. Details of the Ouseburn festival on www.ouseburnfestival.org or from the Trust on 0191-261 6596. The Cumberland only opens from 4pm on weekdays; the Tall Ships sail in next week, too.

BIG George Welch is sitting outside the Cumberland sipping cider through a straw, something which Nina and Frederik - or Nina, at any rate - did rather more fetchingly.

Across the forecourt in the evening sunlight, a ceilidh band colleague is making new drumsticks with a spokeshave.

"I've just gained a degree in apiary," says George by way of openers. "I got two Bs."

Bit of a character, George, wrote Nine Stone Toyboy in memory of a friend and Knock, Knock Knocking on Bevans' door as a salute to the best known shop in Byker.

Eight months ago he formed the Ukulele All Stars. Strings attached? "I read about George Harrison being given one and thought I'd give it a go," he says, peering over his spectacles.

"I just got stuck into it and after a couple of days I was smitten. Everyone's the same.

"It's easily carried, easily learned - four sets of chords and you're away - and incredibly versatile. Beethoven's Pastoral is fantastic on the ukulele.

"I still play guitar with the ceilidh band, but for sheer enjoyment it's the ukulele every time."

The four-stringed instrument, they reckon, arrived in Honolulu with a boat load of Portuguese immigrants in 1879. Anxious to celebrate the end of a four month voyage, Joao Fernandes jumped ashore, borrowed a braguinha and started strumming away.

Mesmerised by the speed of his fingers, the Hawaiians named the instrument the ukulele - the jumping flea.

Though Fernandes may be largely forgotten, the little ukulele is probably best remembered in the hands of the correspondingly enormous Tiny Tim and of the singer George Formby, who may have been named after a Lancashire seaside resort.

Some say why don't you be a boy scout, why don't you read a book

But I get much more pleasure when I'm playing on the uke.

Already George has 15 All Stars, five of them singers, rehearsing in the Cumberland when it's available and, perhaps more appropriately, in the Stout Fiddler when it's not.

A member of the George Formby Appreciation Society, he's also signed up to the Ukulele Freedom Front, perhaps best not initialised, which seeks to find old ukuleles at the back of cupboards and the like.

"The work's coming in well," he says. "I think people saw me so enthusiastic they thought there must be something in it. It's been around a long time, but the ukulele could be the biggest musical phenomenon since the guitar."

AN e-mail arrives from Durham County Council announcing a Community Arts Festival on the Woodhouse Close estate in Bishop Auckland, perhaps better known for its problems than for its solutions. No details yet, it says, but put October 24-29 in your diary. It's done. If they can do it in Byker, why not in Bishop Auckland, too?

Blessing the brewery

PERHAPS among the Bishop of Durham's more relaxing engagements, Dr Tom Wright will next week bless a new brewery.

The first in the area in memory, the Wear Valley Brewery is being launched by Simon Gillespie at the back of the Grand Hotel in Bishop Auckland, which in recent years he has wonderfully reinvigorated.

Brewing equipment arrives this weekend. "The response from trade customers has already been really good," says Simon, also chairman of Bishop Auckland Round Table.

A Round Table themed beer festival - "Merlin Bitter and things" - runs from August 18.

He's also had abundant advice from other brewers. "In what other industry could you turn to your potential rivals?" he says. "It's an example of which I'm sure the bishop would approve."

Dr Wright's presence may also have something to do with his chauffeur. He is a card carrying member of the Campaign for Real Ale.

THE night previously, the Bishop will be hosting a reception aboard four of the Tall Ships, berthed on the Tyne and operated by the Cirdan Trust.

Chaired by Canon Bill Broad, retired Rector of Newton Aycliffe, the Trust offers the chance of seagoing experience to thousands of youngsters who might not otherwise get a sniff of salt air. In many cases it's helped change their lives, he says.

The reception, it's promised, will be a night to remember. Given a following wind, we shall report from both episcopal occasions.

PS to recent columns on the Lyke Wake Walk from Ron Freeman, now in Scarborough but in the 1950s an assistant at Collingwood the jewellers in Middlesbrough.

Bill Cowley, the walk's founder i n 1955, was among those upon whom Mr Freeman "attended".

Bill - "a charming countryman" - bought a Goulton Tankard with the "whole hearted ambition" of giving a half pint replica to all who finished his pioneering 42 mile walk between Osmotherley and Ravenscar.

When the world and his wife began to beat a path to the Lyke Wake Club's door, however, the pot became half empty.

Years later, shop assistant and North Yorkshire farmer met again while walking in Bilsdale. "Though a few must still have them, he hadn't been able to continue with the tankards," says Mr Freeman. "If he had, he'd have been bankrupt."

QUITE a week for the McGovern family in Darlington. After 18-year-old Peter's triumph in the title role of St Augustine's Repertory Society's production of Hamlet - last week's column - his sister Claire, 21, collected an Oxford first in philosophy and theology. Like Peter, she'd also sung with Darlington Operatic Society.

Claire plans to work for a year with a children's charity in Oxford before teacher training in Durham. "I think it says a lot that she should choose to do something so unselfish when she could walk into almost any job," says Rachel, her mum.

They're two of six. "I'm awfully proud," she adds, "of them all."

LAST word on the Durham Tees Valley flier, the seriously underused bus link between Darlington railway station and the airport. John Briggs, who lives on the route, excitedly reports seeing four passengers on board the other day. On the next seven sightings, he adds, there wasn't another soul.