The opening of East Road Wesleyan church in Darlington - and another at Boosbeck, east Cleveland, by the Lord Bishop of Hull - seemed just about the only good news to be had on Tuesday, October 29, 1901.

Elsewhere, the Echo reported, President McKinley's killer had gone "impenitent" to the electric chair - the condemned man did indeed eat a hearty breakfast - the captain of Darlington police cricket team had died from typhoid and Mr W H Wilson, cycle manufacturer of Bishop Auckland, had cut his hand after falling over a dog.

We also noted that a Saltburn councillor had been charged with trying to kill himself with laudanum. It was a very serious offence, the court was told, and the unfortunate gentleman was warned not to do it again. The consequences, presumably, could have been fatal.

Things were altogether more cheerful on that autumn afternoon in Darlington. There was a public lunch and a public tea - they liked their grub in those days - and between satisfying bodily needs, a little something for the soul.

The "Gothic style" church in Louisa Street had cost around £4,000, seated 810 people and was opened by Miss Ogilvie from South Shields. "All functions were remarkably enthusiastic and well attended," observed the Echo, and much the same could be said last Sunday when they marked the centenary.

Now they are Eastbourne Methodists, though why an area of Darlington should have the same name as a seaside town in Sussex we have never been able to discover.

They left the Louisa Street chapel in 1980. "The church had grown too big," said the Echo - by which we meant that the congregation had grown too small - moving around the corner to a new and imaginatively-conceived church in which windows and panelling from the old building still attractively feature.

Last weekend's events also celebrated the 21st anniversary of the new church, the old one - now a temple for Darlington's Sikh community - still overshadowing it through the window.

Though much smaller than the original, the church again was thronged. "Makes a big change from the usual 23," whispered an elderly lady on the next seat, but perhaps she had miscalculated.

The Rev Cameron Kirkwood - splendid name for a Methodist minister, splendid tartan preaching scarf round his neck - was back to lead the morning service. He'd been there from 1980-85 - hardly changed, everyone said, except that he'd had his hair cut.

Dr Gerald Bostock, minister until six days before the new church opened ("galling" he'd said at the time) returned for the afternoon service.

Margaret Garrett, introducing them, wondered about the collective noun for Methodist ministers. It is, of course, a plan - and everything went according.

Mr Kirkwood acknowledged that times weren't easy for the Church, that Eastbourne was "very different" from 1981, stressed the importance of being people orientated and invited the youngsters to draw something which they thought to be important to the Church's future.

Unlike the theatrical gentleman who enjoined against working with children and animals, clergymen have little choice in the former and some, surprisingly, hold services for the latter.

"How beautiful, what is it?" the minister asked one young lady and was informed, a little indignantly, that it was a Power Ranger. Not even the Evangelical Alliance has thought of that one.

We sang Lord Thy Church On Earth is Seeking - at a Church of England centenary it would have been Lord for The Years - and Guide Me O Thou Great Jehovah.

Afterwards there was tea and things - if not quite in the grand style of the early Edwardians - and, out the back, the best historical exhibition of its kind that it's possible to recall.

There were programmes for choral Sundays (Rebekah), concert evenings (Thumbelina) and for the 1952 gentleman's pantomime, Aladdin. There were ceremonial trowels, bibles, alms boxes and Brownie buttons and a glorious, 82-page brochure for the Egyptian Bazaar, held over three days in 1905.

There was also a children's book by the Rev Bramwell Evens - as in Stevens - who may be better be remembered as Romany of the BBC. "Deals with the intimate life of squirrels, frogs and hedgehogs," said the dust jacket.

Romany, a Methodist minister, used to bring his caravan for weekends at Eastbourne church. "You couldn't get stirred those Sundays," recalled a lovely lady called Dorothy Peden, who as a four-year-old had sung at the Sunday School anniversary in 1928 and still keeps the letter of thanks.

"I hope you will continue to use your lovely voice for good causes," the gentleman had observed, and Dorothy has been at Eastbourne ever since. Others rendered Happy Little People and My Daddy Didn't Go to Town. Dorothy sang Little Ones Like Me and remembered all 810 seats occupied.

In 1937, she met her future husband Ross, who played football for the church team. Both remain regulars, she the Sunday afternoon organist, he the chap who once came to one of these columns' aid with the words of In Eleven More Months and Ten More Days I'll be Out of the Kalaboose.

So what, 100 years on, was so special about the Methodist church in east Darlington? "Oh, it's the people," said Dorothy. "The moment you walk through the door you know it; this church is just full of love."

* Principal Sunday services at Eastbourne Methodist Church, Yarm Road, are at 10.30am and 6pm. A year of celebrations climaxes with a flower festival next October. The Reverend Graham Evans, the present minister, is on (01325) 462769.