Pretty as a picture

Oh, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green
And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer's queen.

SO Sir Walter Scott wrote of Brignall and the great artist JMW Turner thought it as pretty as a picture, too. We follow trepidantly.

Brignall's just south of the A66, near Greta Bridge and Barnard Castle. Until 1974 it was in Yorkshire, part of the Startforth Rural District, until government forces upped and offed with it and carried it, wildly protesting, to County Durham.

There are those who still refuse to re-draw the line and others - Tykes, as we shall hear - who behave as if nothing ever happened.

In 1265, Brignall was considered big enough to be granted a market charter. In 1817, the estate was sold by the Eden family of Windlestone to the Morritts, who remain masters of much that they survey.

By 1831, the population was 231 - most adults employed on the land, in one of the four corn mills or at the slate quarries by the River Greta. Now it's very much smaller, no Brig deal, though the roadside St Mary's church still holds bi-monthly services, at which a dozen or so may gather.

A finger post points from there to the "Old church", half a mile away down a path which, for fairly obvious reasons, was called the coffin road. We followed it, light-hearted enough, last Saturday.

It's gloriously tranquil down there, though none knows - as the Rev Albert Harrison conceded in his history of the parishes of Rokeby and Brignall - why the church should have been built in so out-of-the-way a spot.

No wonder, at any rate, that in around 1823 Turner should draw on the experience, the old church in the middle distance, the little lad climbing a tree to retrieve his kite rather more visible.

Thought to have been built in the 12th century, the old church was replaced in 1834, much of the stone used to build the new one. The font and single bell went back up the coffin road, too.

Now only part of the old east wall stands, the graveyard wild around it, concealing goodness knows what.

Mr Harrison became honorary priest-in-charge of Rokeby and Brignall in 1967 after a lifetime on the railways, retiring - aged 88 - in 1989. Even on his arrival he bewailed the state of the churchyard but failed in his attempt to get the council to take over its maintenance.

He also thought the annexation by Co Durham "regrettable", and may have been exercising great powers of Christian restraint when he wrote it.

His history, for which thanks to Judy Hare, also records that so small a parish still had assistant priests - on "very slender" stipends - and that a Victorian incumbent was so often absent that someone painted "To let" on the church wall. It was visible for decades afterwards.

There are footpaths in several directions. Probably we could have spent all afternoon down by Brignall banks, summer days and Scott free, but there was a book launch to attend, and it was to be a book launch like no other.

WE wrote of Doug Anderson's book three weeks ago, illustrated with his own vivid paintings of the 19 fields around Moor House, Brignall, his home these past 70 years.

Its launch was in a marquee on the front field, hundreds of friends and neighbours, including the Rev Christopher Cowper, the present vicar, wearing what might be called shrift shorts.

Moor House is now in County Durham, too, the southward view so wondrous that at once it became clear why it had never been difficult to keep them down on the farm. The occasion, however, remained distinctly Yorkshire. The field wasn't flat, though flat enough. "If it had still been in Yorkshire," said the lady of this house, "they'd probably have been playing cricket on it."

The tent also housed Doug's paintings - £150 unframed, £200 framed - and a collection of ancient artifacts he'd unearthed on the farm, some dating back to Roman times.

Among them was a 15th century mallet bottle. "There was one on telly the other night, reckoned to be worth £2,000," said Doug. "Unfortunately, I drove the plough into this one."

At the other end of the marquee was a bar, and since Moor House front field isn't licensed to sell ales, wines and spirits, raffle tickets could be purchased - £2 apiece - instead.

A kind lady would then provide a drink in exchange for a raffle ticket, the draw, somewhat bewitchingly, to be made at midnight. "It's so they can drink more beer," said Doug.

It may not have been an every day story of country folk, but they've probably already thought of it on The Archers.

Doug's churchwarden at St Mary's, too, the single old bell restored in memory of his wife Hazel, who died several years ago. The organist, who was 80, has recently retired and been replaced by a woman of 78. They needed to get a younger person in, he said.

"One Field at a Time" is delightful, an anecdotal account of farm life at the hoary end, in which names have sometimes been changed to protect the innocuous. We paid £12 for a review copy and headed back to North Yorkshire.

PREVIEWED in last week's column, the bus rally in Bishop Auckland to mark the Eden's 80th birthday seemed to go very well. There were virtual re-runs of Lockey's well-remembered service from Bishop Auckland through West Auckland to Evenwood and of Shaw's, Spennymoor to Byers Green. There was a London double decker omnibus as driven by Flanders and Swann and a Middlesbrough Corporation service 99, which came with its own bus stop.

There was an elderly United with "Aidensfield" on the destination board - it's not anywhere round here - and an ice cream van where the cornet came free. "Your dad was very good to us," said the lady.

Word is that a £50,000 restoration on one of Weardale Motors' finest is now almost complete. As befits that happy company, it'll still stop in the middle of nowhere, so that the driver can let his dog out for a walk.

After last week's note on Charles Laughton and the Scarborough connection - his family had the Pavilion Hotel in the town - we have heard from Stella Robson in Newton Aycliffe.

In the early 1950s, she and Don, her future husband, were offered work by the great actor's brother at a cliff top hotel also owned by the Laughton family. "He looked just like him, Panama hat and diamond tie pin," recalls Stella, still happily married after 55 years.

Unfortunately, they are unable to revisit those romantic old haunts of their youth. A few years ago, the hotel fell into the sea.

Fronted by a rather fetching photograph of Victoria Embankment, last Saturday's Guardian magazine carried an enthusiastic piece about Darlington's being the coming place. "An unexpectedly pleasant town," they concluded.

"From the streets" the magazine quoted Melissa Wilson - "beautiful town, fabulous markets", Hilary Ritchie - "delightfully compact" - and Ada Burns, who thought her family's move from London in 2005 to have been "fabulous" and "life changing".

Pity they didn't see fit to mention that Ada Burns is Darlington council's chief executive. She was right about the limited range of restaurants, though.