HER emotions stretched to the limits, we have had a call from Mrs Joan Bates. One recent eating experience was "absolutely tremendous", she says - so special she was tempted to keep it secret - the other so "utterly dreadful" that she wrote to the manager.

He offered the next meal on the house. She's free with her opinions on that one, too.

The column's visits last week suggested substantial agreement; but first the good news...

Neasham is by the Tees south of Darlington, and latterly much prone to flooding. We knew the Fox and Hounds antediluvially when, Vaux-owned, it was well run and very popular but the food, as they say, was nowt ower. It's been run these past three years by Beverly Hayman and Brenda Whear, both still bank workers, and by Brenda's husband Martin. ("A nice man," said Mrs Bates.) Decoratively, little seems to have changed, though we didn't recall the fox with a Woodbine stuck in its mouth. Poor little things - some would say - haven't they enough to worry about without a smoker's cough, an' all?

There's also a graphic map of Neasham and its surrounds - Girsby, Sockburn, Low and Over Dinsdale - and a Vaux issue picture of former company chairman Major Douglas Nicholson carriage driving with the Duke of Edinburgh. Duggie Nic and the duke were probably Britain's best known carriage men, though we knew a second-hand furniture dealer from Crook who similarly rubbed royal shoulders.

The food is altogether attractive, the specials board a rare and imaginative bargain, though the arthritic or infirm should avoid the bench seating either side of the restaurant. An Olympic gymnastics medal might, indeed, be useful.

We ate largely from the blackboard, the leek and potato soup - sagey, not samey - a splendid start. The Boss had a "cheesey pot", or some such, laced with madeira. She much enjoyed that, too.

The prawn stir-fry which followed was among the best pub dishes in memory. Served additionally with "Japanese style" king prawns - probably owing more to Team Valley than Tokyo, but never mind - it came with noodles, a delicious coriander and chilli sauce and all manner of things like sweetcorn, water chestnuts, mushrooms and peppers.

There are many meals - far too many - in which interest dies after about three forkfuls. This one held it consistently.

Similarly, The Boss's Cajun-spiced salmon, the salad - grapes, strawberries, peppers, good leaves - no less commendable, the potatoes well cooked and fresh.

We finished with rice pudding with a berry compote, and two spoons, washed it all down with a pint or two of Ridley's IPA - there's a regularly changing guest pump, plus cask Magnet - paid around £22 for two, without drinks.

Afterwards, there was a quiz (Tuesday nights) which we declined to enter - partly for fear of embarrassment and partly, no question, because we'd got lucky already.

* The Fox and Hounds, Neasham near Darlington (01325) 720350. Food Tuesday to Saturday and Sunday lunchtime, Bargain board lunchtimes and until 7.30pm. Big garden and play area if the sun ever shines.

FROM the sublime to Mrs Bates's double dose of dreadfulness, Sunday lunch at the Blackwell Grange Hotel in Darlington.

"Even the restaurant supervisor looked like she'd slept in her suit," adds Mrs B, though - if not for the sleepy suit - we edge towards mitigation.

The Blackwell's restaurant is perfectly pleasant, the price - two courses with coffee £7.45, three £9.95 - entirely reasonable on a good day, the young staff willing and uniformly turned out.

The great difficulty is that it's a carvery for which Sunday lunch - or anything else edible - was not, as it were, cut out. No one does it well; the Blackwell does it less well than others.

It was almost impossible to discern the difference between the turkey and the pork, the taste had been cooked clean out of the carrots, the gravy was all-purpose. There was no crackling, no stuffing and no condiments, no toast or salad with the pate-style starters, no sign of life in the pudding and no one to take the coats.

The tomato chutney was very nice.

The only beer was Boddington's, advertised as the cream of Manchester. There are those who say the same about Stockport County.

The restaurant was busy for all that, not least by the christening party for Master Nathan Edwards, the family table so long that they might have hired the Royal Mail to deliver messages from one end to the other.

Though weddings are now held everywhere except the back bar of the Grinders Arms, there is as yet no provision for baptisms on licensed premises. Doubtless the day will soon come, a sort of two-in-one head wetting.

Master Nathan behaved impeccably. So, for that matter, did the rest of the Edwards ensemble. It might have helped cheer up poor Mrs Bates; for now it's the Blackwell left holding the baby.

A QUICK one in the Joiners Arms in Hunwick, between Bishop Auckland and Willington, discloses celebrations afoot. Ian Richardson's been landlord since February 15, 1971, which was also Decimalisation Day and a pint of Gold Tankard suddenly stopped being 1/10d. To mark the anniversary, there'll be 30p off all beer and lager throughout February. Food - Thursday to Saturday evening, Sunday lunchtime - is good value and well recommended, too.

RALPH Wilkinson, owner of the much-lauded Number 22 Coniscliffe Road in Darlington, is adding The Crown in Manfield - a village five miles south-west of the town - to his perfectly polished portfolio. "It's not broken so there's nothing to fix," says Ralph.

The pub will remain community-based and real ale-led - "people don't want to be squeezing past the scampi all the time" - though there'll be sandwiches and other snacks.

John Kay, upon whom the Crown has rested easily for 17 years, is retiring. The new landlady, probably from mid-March, will be Bev Swan, who for four years has helped make 22 such an attractive little number. Since opening in March 1995, it has several times won the Darlington CAMRA branch's pub of the year award, twice the North-East title and been runner-up nationally.

It's the place, readers may recall, about which Ralph sought the column's advice before proceeding. Phrases like "barge pole" and measurements like "ten foot" came to mind. So far as Manfield is concerned, the gentleman has for some reason never sought to ask.

THERE are Turks Heads and Bulls Heads - bull's lugs, too - Kings Heads and Queens Heads and none doing obvious obeisance to the apostrophe. But what was a garrick, wondered last week's column, after spotting the Garricks Head in North Shields.

Kevin O'Beirne in Sunderland had seen an identically named pub in Cheltenham depicting - a head start, as it were - the great 18th Century actor and theatre manager Sir David Garrick depicted on the sign.

There was also a Garricks Head in Sunderland, and there's a Garrick Hotel in Stockton.

It was quite common, says Tom Purvis, for pubs to be named after actors and playwrights - Sunderland also had a Keans Head, after the actor Edmund Kean (1787-1833).

Garrick, a theatrical visionary, had worked in the wine trade as a youth but had no other connection with taverns other than that he caroused in them.

Sadly, however, he lost his Head in Sunderland 20 years ago when the pub successively became Pharaoh's, then Mr Smith's then the Rose and Crown. The plot may thicken yet.

...and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew what a whole apple can do that half an apple can't.

Look round.