When Age Concern starts writing personal letters, you know that time's marching on. Another birthday next week and barely a fortnight (or so it seems) since the last annual reminder.

The missive was from John Lowes, the Age Concern notepaper sub-titled "Making more of life." It was headed "Darlington's best kept secret."

The secret, John suggested, was the "Drop-in" restaurant at the local headquarters in Beaumont Street, just behind Grange Road in the town centre. A five item breakfast is £1.70, two course lunch £2.70.

We went with Mike Gibb, the Echo's chief photographer, who's not only the same age and fast receding but is becoming so absent minded that only last week he - no, no, that one had best stay in-house.

Neither age nor residency disqualifies diners, which is probably why the first person we bumped into was Mr Eric Henderson, who may be 80 but had snuck in from Marske-by-the-Sea.

"My wife and I were just walking past when this chap came out and told us how good it was," said Eric, originally a Consett lad who - long ago - became the youngest ever president of the Football League Referees and Linesmen's Association.

The restaurant's in a new building, French windows for fine days, opened in 1994. The tables, as if a memorandum to mortality, offer not only the menu but leaflets about care in the home, cold weather payments and planning your own funeral.

There was also a booklet about becoming a burden and things - "Products and services for the Over 50s," it said. Mr Gibb turned pale, as if photographing his own funeral with a zoom lens and clearly a cause for Concern.

Lunch changes daily, cooked on the premises by Rachel Chalwin and her team and served by a gang of jolly volunteers led last Thursday by the exuberant Letitia Gray, aged 77.

"Volunteer slave driver," it said on her identity badge.

It was roast chicken followed by currant tart. The day previously it had been steak pie and jelly and ice cream, the day afterwards sausage and Yorkshire puddings and treacle sponge.

"They do a fantastic quiche," said Liz Muggleton, Age Concern's acting chief officer in Darlington.

Had the chicken had the flesh of a senior spuggie or the tart the consistency of a pension book, it is unlikely in the circumstances that we would have slammed it.

In truth, however, it really was a very enjoyable lunch. The vegetables were carefully cooked, the Yorkshires still vibrant, the bird from an altogether plumper perch than the scrag-end scrawn bags so popular on pub food counters. The currant tart had manifestly been made that morning.

Though it may not perhaps be said that the column looks like it was born yesterday, we'd no sooner parted with the required £5.40 - like HM the Queen, photographers don't carry money - when Ms Muggleton appeared with a collecting tin.

We willingly let Age Concern have the change from a tenner. These days, alas, you never know when you might need them.

l The Age Concern "Drop-in restaurant" in Beaumont Street West, Darlington, is open to the public of all ages from 9-3pm, lunch from 11.30-1.30pm. Details of other services for "older people" on (01325) 362832.

EVEN the young make mistakes, of course, so here's a message for the lady from Mcquays by the River - a riparian restaurant in Stockton - who left an order on the column's answering machine for four pints of milk, 8lbs of carrots, one red cabbage, two oak leaves, two frilly lettuces, 20 lemons, ten limes, one turnip, two red onions, four mangoes, two spring onions, two cucumbers, six passion fruits, two packets of baby corn, 5kgs of cooking apples, one parsley, two dozen eggs and a medium white loaf (sliced).

Sorry pet, you got the wrong number.

THE University of the Third Age, so far as this humble scholar may ascertain, is a sort of adult education organisation for those of riper years.

It is not to be confused with Shakespeare's seven ages, nor with the affectionately remembered Denis Weatherley, the column's old headmaster at Bishop Grammar, whom long after his retirement we encountered on Darlington High Row.

Told (well meaningly) that he was looking well, Denis replied that there were Three Ages of Man - youth, middle age and "By Jove, you do look well."

He died a few weeks later, whilst singing "Swing low sweet chariot, Coming for to carry me home" with a male voice choir in Nottingham.

We mention all this because a dozen or so from the University of the Third Age walked into The George at Piercebridge the other lunchtime. Had they walked past, there'd have been no one else in at all.

The George is by the tumbling Tees five miles west of Darlington, best known - appropriately in the context of today's column - for its malfunctioning grandfather clock.

The Third Age folk - overgraduates? - were also a little behind time, some blowing a bit after a round walk to Aldbrough St John.

Perhaps also appropriately, the tape played The Heart Will Go On, the theme from the Titanic film. The Boss reckoned it's overtaken The Lord's My Shepherd as the most requested hymn at funerals.

It was enough to make you weep.

The bar menu looked pretty imaginative though the Timothy Taylor's Landlord was, sadly, off. Absentee Landlord, as it were. We drank Abbot Ale and ordered two bowls of carrot and tomato soup, tasty had not the croutons been warmed in it - that day or some other - instead of added later.

The effect was of orange boiley, and only those of a certain age may remember boiley, an' all.

The Boss thought the "fresh salmon and cod courgettes" very generous, well flavoured but overcooked. The cheese and bacon burger was OK, but fighting a losing battle against the bun which overwrought it. The chips were passable, the undressed salad horrid.

Such problems will doubtless be overcome. As doubtless they say in the University of the Third Age, you're never too old to learn.

AFTER last week's reminiscent reference to Fentiman's pop, we paid £1.99 for a small bottle of the company's admittedly excellent ginger ale at a Moto service station on the A1.

Peter Crawforth in Chilton, near Ferryhill, also found it at a shop in Keynsham, Bristol, which - unsurprisingly for anyone old enough to remember Radio Luxembourg - set him musing about old Horace Batchelor, inventor of the Infradraw pools winning system.

Whatever happened to him?

A FINAL word, perhaps, on the joys of Seaton Carew. Chris Eddowes went to Don Bee's highly recommended chippy, found it closed and crossed the road to Young's - "Chips thick and crispy, fish succulent, batter light and crunchy. Wonderful." Richard, her husband, also noticed a sign standing in solitary splendour proclaiming "Offenders will be prosecuted." Chris says that she'd like a badge like that.

...and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew why the elephant painted her head yellow.

To see if blondes really do have more fun.