AS well they might, recent columns have dwelt upon the wretchedness and ever-spiralling fares of the North-East bus network, particularly those services run by the absurdly named Arriva. Today, conversely, details of a transport of delight.

It is a route which takes no prisoners, nor many passengers either, but by hanging on to the seat in front - the driver cannot hang about - it is possible to see parts of County Durham which other bus services may never, ever, have reached.

Anyone else travelling from Barnard Castle to Bishop Auckland would go through Staindrop and West Auckland and be there in half an hour. Two fat ladies, the 88 encompasses an altogether more roundabout route.

From Barnard Castle it heads, as inexorably as inexplicably, to Kinninvie - where once old Sally kept the Brown Jug - then across Langleydale Common and onto the high and handsome road from Eggleston to Woodland.

From Woodland to Copley and Copley Bent, Copley Bent to the Slack (no connection, presumably) and Butterknowle, then round in a hyperbolic loop to South Side, High Wham - good pub there, an' all, though precious little else - to High Lands, Morley, Hamsterley, Witton-le-Wear, High Grange and Toronto.

Just one road is officially considered "unclassified". Many more may never more have expected to see above two farm vehicles and a bicycle in any seven day period, much less a Go North-East bus in the midst of weighing up its possibilities.

Early doors in Barney, we alone caught the 10.10 - first of the day - on Saturday morning. Two others joined in the middle of nowhere in particular, but which may have been in-or-out Landish, a fourth came aboard at Hamsterley. That was it.

The journey took just 57 minutes, as miraculous as Scrooge's three spirits who did it all in one night. Across the new viaduct, the road into Bishop Auckland was akin to the Arc de Triomphe, or the entry into Jerusalem. The fare for this extraordinary odyssey was just £2.80, no doubt yet more economical with a return ticket. It's a magical and a mystical experience; make a date with Route 88.

* Number 88 buses leave Barnard Castle at 10.10, 12.20 and 14.25, and from Bishop Auckland bus station at 9am, 11.15am and 1.15pm. Morning services run from South Side to Bishop, and return thus far in the evening. No Sunday service.

SATURDAY'S Guardian, perused on the journey, carried a long leg of letters about President Bush's claim that God told him to end the tyranny in Iraq. One, 19 words long, was from Percival Turnbull in Barnard Castle, newly left: "In this country, those who hear voices telling them to go out and kill people get sent to Broadmoor."

WE'D spent the previous evening on a "Question Time" panel which included Darlington MP and former health secretary Alan Milburn, still tipped by some as a challenger to Gordon Brown for the keys to 10 Downing Street.

Ruth Briel, his partner, was back home in the Tyne Valley with the bairns.

In the lower case - and not many people know this - "ruth" means pity or sorrow. Thus is it still possible to be ruthful, though it is no doubt only when Dr Briel is elsewhere that the articulate Mr Milburn may truly be said to be Ruthless.

SPEAKING of Hamsterley, as in passing just now we were, which well known man about Darlington became so disorientated when cycling through the Forest last Thursday that at dusk the police helicopter and a couple of squad cars had to be called upon in order to get him back on track? "The police were very courteous," he says. Though aware of the poor chap's identity, the column's lips remain resolutely - indeed surgically - sealed.

STILL in the theatre of the unlikely, a reader in the Crook area sends a copy of a magazine he found in a hotel room in Italy.

Our correspondent craves anonymity, though when last he wrote - three years ago - it was about Dr Handley Moule. Dr Moule was an early 20th century Bishop of Durham, perhaps inevitably known as Holy Mouley, who forecast that the second coming would happen in 1920. He may have been a year or two out.

The magazine, at any rate, is called Artz + Auto - Doctor and Car - embracing everything from close-ups of surgery to the spec for the Opel Tigra Twin Top.

"It's certainly the strangest magazine I've ever seen," he says. Other readers may periodically have seen weirder yet.

RECALLING the characters of JB Morton, otherwise the legendary Daily Express columnist Beachcomber, last week's Gadfly disinterred Dr Strabismus (whom God preserve) of Utrecht.

His inventions, we said, had included luminous bicycle clips so that night time riders might be seen by approaching motorists (useful for police helicopters, too).

Paul Dobson in Bishop Auckland, involved in a pretty hairy cycle accident a few years back, writes that luminous clips have in reality been around for at least 15 years. "Unfortunately," he adds, "they don't stop you getting hit by apparently blind women from Toft Hill."

NO more comfortably back on the buses, last week's column suggested that there was little wonder that people railed against Arriva. Last Thursday we again caught the last service home from Darlington, a couple of minutes late, after addressing the ladies of Bishop Auckland Townswomen's Guild.

The driver said the fuel gauge appeared not to be working and stopped at the depot 200 yards away. The reason the fuel gauge wasn't working, they said, was that there wasn't any fuel.

Refilled, they then decided that the bus might as well go through the wash while it was in the garage. Come clean, it was 11pm.

The only other chap on board looked across with a quizzical expression. "It could only happen in Darlington, couldn't it?" he said.

...and finally, a note for all those who believe themselves elected to high office.

About 30 years ago I had a non-speaking role - a walk-out part it might almost be said - in Shildon Amateur Operatic Society's production of Paint Your Wagon at Darlington Civic Theatre.

Last week a fellow cast member rang - "I was the head prostitute," she insisted - to recall that one night stand.

Now she hopes to form a sort of junior operatic society in the Bishop Auckland area. The column has been invited to be president.

Tone deaf, cloth eared and possessor of the worst singing voice since Benny the Ball - remember Top Cat? - we protested unsuitability. Many will confirm it.

"Knowing nothing at all about the subject is the perfect qualification for being president of anything," she said.

They have their man.

Published: 12/10/2005