Coal mine to ermine

When former NW Durham MP Hilary Armstrong was sworn into the House of Lords last week, she took the title Baroness Armstrong of Hill Top.

“We all know what it means, even if the rest of the world doesn’t. It means God’s own country,” she says of her noble gesture.

County Durham has two Stanleys – this one, much the smaller, is a former pit village above Crook, once known as Mount Pleasant, but more often these days as Stanley Crook.

It’s the place where the new Lady Armstrong was brought up, her father Ernest the MP before her.

Ernest also played football for Stanley United, a no-nonsense wing-half who earned the nickname Sikey – spellings may vary – but if Hilary’s a Lady, her dad was undoubtedly a gentleman.

The football team has long folded, the splendoured pavilion – known to Backtrack readers as the Little House on the Prairie – burned to the ground.

The nearby Wooley Terrace Methodist chapel, a place no less special, closed last year.

The pub’s shut, the post office is shut, the shops are shut – but, coal mine to ermine, the village on Windy Ridge is finally having its day in the sun.

“I’d thought about Baroness Armstrong of Crook, but the Garter King of Arms wasn’t keen,” says Hilary. “It couldn’t simply be ‘Stanley’ because there are two, and Stanley Crook sounded like a man’s name.

“The Garter King of Arms found Stanley Hill Top in the gazetteer and I was delighted. The fact that it could be the hill top of anywhere doesn’t matter. We all know where it is, even if the rest of the world doesn’t. It’s home.”

JOHN Armstrong, Hilary’s older brother, was among those who attended last Tuesday’s swearing- in. “The Garter people thought that Lady Crook had an unfortunate ring to it,” he says.

John – excellent chap, now in Bishop Auckland – had to get into the Palace of Westminster through the Lords’ gateway.

Once past the preliminary check, he noticed a sign saying “Peer’s entrance”, asked who the lucky chap was who had an entrance all to himself.

Though the official had the good grace to be embarrassed, John has referred the solecism to former university lecturer Lord Griffith, a close friend of his father’s and one of his sister’s sponsors. “He doesn’t promise success,” says John.

Further into the parliamentary labyrinth, they came across a toilet door marked “Peers only”.

“Well, what else would you do in there?” said his son. His No 1 son, no doubt.

STILL among its peers, the At Your Service column attended last Sunday’s “Matins for Her Majesty’s Courts of Justice” at Durham Cathedral and was provided with a list of the Lords of Appeal. Not only is the Lord Chief Justice Lord Judge, but there’s also a Lord Laws – not to be confused with a law lord – and a Lord Moses, in legal terms the daddy of them all. More of all that on Saturday.

THE Guardian, meanwhile, reports that Lady Amos has been appointed the most senior UN official in charge of humanitarian affairs and emergency relief.

Presently the British High Commissioner in Australia, she had been leader of the House of Lords in the Labour government and was the first black woman to sit in the cabinet.

For that reason, if no other, it may be assumed that we are probably not related.

LORD McNally, the justice secretary, has produced – and about time – a draft bill to control what has become known as libel tourism.

“We are committed to reforming the law on defamation and want to focus on ensuring that a right and a fair balance is struck between freedom of expression and the protection of reputation,” he says.

The Guardian reported that, too.

“Deformation bill to curb libel tourism,” said the headline.

Probably we shouldn’t scoff. Martin Birtle in Billingham points out that last week’s Echo preview of Mock the Week talked of Dara O Briain “once more taking hold of the rains”.

Martin simply watches the stuff falling. “What a clever fellow he must be.”

SINCE she’s been in Sierra Leone, and there’s no direct bus service from there to the Hill Top, Lady Armstrong has been unavailable for photographs.

Stanley may yet witness some unusual sights this Sunday, however, when a group of sponsored walkers – many in what euphemistically is described as fancy dress – will be passing through. It’s in aid of Tow Law Town FC, up the road, who’ve been having a bit of a crisis. I’ll be joining them, probably dressed as a tramp. They’re great people and it’s a good club. If anyone fancies chipping in a fiver, it would greatly be appreciated.

IT’S really to draw attention to an entry on the BBC’s “Top stories”

website – “Humans’ early arrival in Britain – about two hours ago” – that David Kelly emails from Mickleton, in Teesdale.

After a visit to the Nuffield Hospital in Stockton, however, he also joins those puzzled by the rampant proliferation of the prefix “pre-“ – the prebooked restaurant table, the pre-existing condition, the pre-planned operation.

At the Nuffield they offer pre-assessment.

So how does that work, then?

PERHAPS because of all the preassessment checks they undergo, last week’s column reported a Methodist Recorder survey that Methodists live between seven and nine years longer than the rest of us.

Ian Andrew in Lanchester, himself a Methodist local preacher, begs leave to doubt it. “The people whose passing is announced in the Recorder are unlikely to be an accurate representation of overall Methodist death rates.”

Writing gently to point out that Virgin no longer operates Cross Country train services from the North-East, Allan McLean – communications manager for the company’s Scottish and other northern operations – also reports that he attended a dinner last week in honour of Bill Cameron, one of those chiefly behind the 1980s campaign to save the Settle and Carlisle line.

Bill’s 83, still an active Carlisle city councillor. “It will not in the least surprise you,” says Allan, “to learn that he is a Methodist.”

ALSO crossing the Cumberland gap, Charles Allenby, from Malton, discovers in the graveyard of St Cuthbert’s church Lorton, near Cockermouth, the tomb of Peter Robinson – “for upwards of 58 years a Methodist local preacher in the district”.

Born in November 1780, Robinson was 87 – a remarkable age back then, even for a pioneering Methodist – when he died in July 1868. His epitaph’s memorable:

Of no distemper, by no blast, he died,
But fell like autumn fruit that mellowed long;
Even wondered at because he dropped no sooner;
He seemed to be wound-up for fourscore years
Yet freshly ran he on eight winters more
Till, like a clock worn out with rating time,
The weary wheels of life at last stood still:
He died as he had lived – a holy happy man.

ONCE bitten, the column two weeks ago talked – again – about midges. That weekend a horse called Dangerous Midge won – flew in – at 17-2 at Haydock. The faithful Martin Birtle, him again, won a considerable sum.

Thus encouraged, Martin studied Wednesday’s column and Saturday’s racecards simultaneously.

Though Reverence finished on its knees in the 3.20 at Chester – almost inevitably we’d touched upon church matters – we’d also talked about the American “spy station” at Menwith Hill, near Harrogate.

A 12-1 shot, Waveband beamed home in the 4.05 at Ascot, beating the odds-on favourite by six lengths with Martin’s fortunes again riding on it its back.

Peer pressure, he’s now hoping for a hat-trick – commoners clarts, we may have more of that next week.