Amid recent reports of troubled times for village cricket, there is at last some good news. Membership of the Feversham League, to which the column is all but betrothed, will rise by 33 per cent – that is to say, from three to four – this summer.

The surprise newcomers are Rosedale Abbey, a village at the heart of the North Yorkshire Moors National Park, where competitive cricket was last played in the 1980s and which may better be known for the one-in-three Rosedale Chimney Bank, the steepest public road in England.

Sadistic cycling organisers are particularly fond of it. “The chain breaker”, participants call the ascent, though it may break hearts as well.

Rosedale will play on the village football field, duly inspected by league secretary Charles Allenby and chairman David Westhead. “While it would be difficult to envisage cricket being played on the present soggy surface, we’re sure it’ll be fine,” says Charles.

“They have a groundsman, are confident they can raise a team, will be able to purchase the necessary equipment and above all are very enthusiastic.”

Rosedale never did have an abbey, rather a nunnery – which, in a Tudor example of equality of the sexes, still fell foul of bad king Henry.

Feversham teams will now play each other home and away, with sundry cup competitions as leaven. More ere May is out.

Better news from Seaham Harbour, too. Though no longer able to compete in the North East Premier League – last week’s column – the cricket club will play its 150th anniversary season in the North East Durham League second division. They still hope to run a junior side, too.

Among former Seaham players was future England footballer Brian Marwood, whose first team debut as a 15-year-old was marked with a beamer from Chester-le-Street pro Wasim Raja. Marwood’s autobiography (with thanks to Martin Birtle) recalls the incident – and how, poor Wasim pinned against the wall, the Harbour skipper reminded him of the error of his ways thereafter.

Long in Thailand, former North East Durham League sponsor George Alberts has put pithy pen to paper to the Bangkok Post. “The more I see and hear of the present cricket situation in Australia, the more I’m happy to be a useless Pom.”

The page liberated from Kirkcaldy library, a reader (who’d best be nameless) sends news that the great Ian Porterfield is posthumously to be inducted into Raith Rovers’ hall of fame. The event, in November, is already a sell-out.

The Fife Free Press concedes, however, that their man might best be remembered for a goal for Sunderland.

He was a Dunfermline miner’s son, scored 17 goals in 117 league appearances for the Rovers, moved to Wearside for £45,000 in 1967 – replacing another former Raith man, Jim Baxter.

We’d met in 2005, a memorable three hour interview in an Edinburgh hotel. Weeks earlier he’d managed Busan I’cons to a Christmas Day victory in the Korean FA Cup final.

Glenda, his lovely Trinidadian wife, was there, too. “I love the Scottish people, but every time I come here it rains,” she said.

Ian was then 59, had managed all over the world, looked forward to many more adventures. Tragically, he died two years later.

Supernaturally anxious to boost clubhouse takings after 19 postponed matches – so far – this season, Crook Town FC have hasted a couple of clairvoyancy evenings. The lady, they reckon, is a very cheerful sort. She’s known as the happy medium.

The Durham Age UK men’s breakfast, the column’s feet long beneath the table, was entertained last Wednesday by Ron Bone.

Though Middlesbrough football fans may scarce recognise the name, he long played a crucial part in the team’s success.

Ron worked for the club for 30 years, the last 19 as head of recruitment in formidable partnership with youth development officer David Parnaby, Kelloe lad.

When Boro played Fulham in a Premier League match in 2006, 15 of the 16 squad members had graduated from the club’s academy. During Ron’s time, 95 Boro academy boys played first team football there or elsewhere.

Chester-le-Street lad, he learned the coaching art with Hilda Park juniors. In an earlier life he’d been a member of Paul Ryan and the Streaks, resident band at the long-gone Rink in Spennymoor.

On his first day at the Boro, they’d sent him for some togs. The long serving kitman declined to give him any. “You won’t stay, none of them does,” he said.

He retired last May with a wonderful record and a national award from the FA. That spoke well, too.

….and finally, last week’s column invited the identity of the improbable partner with whom Peter Sellers recorded Bangers and Mash (and quite a lot else). It was Sophia Loren, she who once said that a woman’s dress should be like a barbed wire fence – serving its purpose without obstructing the view – and still stunning at 83.

Arnold Alton was diplomatic, simply wondering which team she’d played for. David Walsh was blunter – the question, he wrote, had bugger all to do with sport – but offered a football connection of his own.

Loren’s a Napoli fan. In 2007, when 72, she offered to do a striptease should the team win promotion back to Serie A. Though they did, the internet reveals nothing further.

Everyone knows that the blessed Arsene is football’s longest serving manager. Readers are today invited to name the second longest serving of the traditional 92.

Before the column goes on for ever, we shall return next week.