SINCE sundry columns down the years have suggested that the Tow Law climate is a mite inhospitable, it should be recorded that at last week’s evening match with Northallerton the thermometer reached 18 degrees.

Perhaps it was just as well, because on leaving the stand at the end of the game, Northallerton programme editor Noel Russell jarred his back so badly that, unable to move, he had to sit there until 10.45 when stretched paramedics arrived.

Tow Law thoughtfully left the floodlights on. “We’re running out of shillings for the meter,” said club secretary Steve Moralee.

After treatment and painkillers, Noel was able to return home by car. “I’m just glad it wasn’t December,” he said.

A BIT fresher, apparently, when Shildon played Crook Town in the FA Cup back on August 16.

“I’m so cold my handwriting has started to look like the polygraph test of a particularly nervous liar,” writes Harry Pearson in the national football magazine When Saturday Comes.

Last week’s column wondered if Harry were planning a sequel to The Far Corner. The visit appears to have been a three-page one-off. It’s hard to suppose that he was much taken with the town.

“Though it’s a dozen miles from the coast,” writes Harry – inaccurately – “Shildon feels like a seaside town in the offseason, a little bit abandoned like it’s waiting for the spring.”

Nor was he impressed with the hospitality. “Half-time in the clubhouse and all we get to eat are the leftovers from the committee men’s tea – egg sandwiches, scotch eggs and a jam tart if you’re quick.”

It’s 7-0 to the Railwaymen, but sometimes they may feel that they just can’t win.

THAT’S in the October issue of WSC. September’s, bought in error, has a piece speculating on rumours that Newcastle United are about to offer “exclusive” access to some areas to the Sun. Both club and newspaper deny it: a recent piece by the red top’s city editor headed “Why we should all love Mike Ashley” is doubtless coincidental.

JOHN Littlefair, whose passing was lamented in Tuesday’s column, was himself Shildon FC’s chairman many years ago.

He was better known for his 55 years as what the Methodists call a local preacher, in which capacity he appeared several times in the At Your Service column.

John made Backtrack just once, back in 2005 when he and his wife Audrey had gone to watch their grandson play rugby for Mowden Park II, they who now so successfully occupy the former George Reynolds Arena.

When a player swore loudly, the referee dealt promptly and efficiently with the miscreant and then, seeing an elderly couple among the spectators, ran across to apologise before restarting the game.

“It would never happen in the Northern League,” said John.

He was doubtless right.

BOBBY Orton, another of those all-round enthusiasts who has played both cricket and football professionally, turns up at the match the other night. A goalkeeper like his dad, his son Tom plays for Brandon United.

Two summers ago, Bob suffered a serious arm injury – “so painful I couldn’t even brush my teeth with that arm.” Halfway through this one he was persuaded to return to action by Brandon Cricket Club.

“They said they were short,” he recalls. “Me kit was in the loft, me cricket socks had been left inside me wellies and, worst of all, I didn’t even have any Deep Heat.”

His days as a quickie have slowly disappeared; these days he’s an offspinner and, thus disarming, has captured almost 50 wickets. Familiar throughout the North-East, the enduring Mr Orton is 58.

LAST week’s piece on the Lewis and Harris League showdown – midge-ravaged and memorable – noted that in the Outer Hebrides they still very much remember the Sabbath. It appears that the proscription is being extended.

A holidaymaker called P White from Herrington, Sumderland, writes to the |Stornoway Gazette that he suffered a puncture out in the wilds, used the spare tyre and headed into Stornoway, the island capital, to sort out the rest.

It was a Saturday. Though Stornoway has many garages – “more than I can count,” insists Mr White – none of them was open. Finally he flatlined to the tourist information office where they found him an open garage in Leverburgh. A long and endlessly winding road, Leverburgh is 56 miles away.

…and finally, the last team to reach the World Cup quarter-finals without winning a match (Backtrack, September 11) was the Republic or Ireland in 1990 – played four, drew four and then Readers are today invited to name the term for the admittedly unlikely score of a -4 in golf. We hole out again next week.