Nursery class

Readers recommend from time to time, a thought which is much appreciated. Within a few weeks, one of the other, testimonials arrived which together could be embraced one strolling summer Saturday. Bearing a new Ordnance Survey map, we began with an 11am breakfast at Lanchester Nurseries.

"Fantastic value food and the best surfinias I've ever had," wrote Ellen Carlin, from Durham. Fergie and Stephanie Pybus opened the nurseries at Easter, Buttercups cafe attractively converted - and yet more attractively furnished - at one end of the barn.

A sign outside said "Sod the dog, beware of the kids." We'd a nice view of the Derwent Valley and of some flowerpots. It was a chance to recall that Peter Hawkins, who provided the voices of Bill and Ben - he called the language Flobbadob, had Bill and Ben joined the scouts it could have been Flobbadob Week - had died a couple of weeks earlier.

Hawkins, said his Telegraph obituarist, had also been the voice of everyone from Mr Turnip (remember Mr Turnip?) to Captain Pugwash, from the Woodentops to Penny Crayon (whoever that colourful character may have been). He was the Martians in the Smash advert, too, and did very well for himself. "I had ambitions to become a famous actor and a successful one," he once said. "I achieved the second, and I'm grateful."

What the Echo needs, it seems to me, is a good obituaries column. When I retire I shall offer to attempt it, and by Providence live to tell the tale.

Lanchester's between Durham and Consett, the Nurseries out of the village on the B6301 to Cornsay. A simple but imaginative blackboard menu had lots of sandwiches, toasties, baguettes and paninis and a good selection of coffee and hot chocolate. The scones appeared gargantuan.

Ellen had particularly liked the chicken, mozzarella and pesto panini, her husband the prawn and red pepper sandwich. A vastly overflowing prawn mayonnaise baguette, terrific value, came with a virtual bag of crisps and lots of crisp, fresh salad.

The Boss had a mozzarella and mango chutney panini, similarly and extravagantly adorned. With two large cups of good, strong coffee the bill for two reached about £9.

Like Mrs Carlin's surfinia, everything coming up lovely.

Thereafter we drove to Knitsley, of which more anon, then set off towards the Derwent Walk Inn - on Ebchester Bank - along the merry maze of footpaths, cycleways and railway trackbeds which now surround Consett.

The path crossed the site of the old ironworks - none would know - and through Blackhill, where latter day ventures include the wonderfully successful AA Flag Company, sub-titled "No ordinary flagmaker" and "Flagmaker to the world."

Its own poles were bare, mourning perhaps, though a few doors along the Scotch Arms and the Derwent Hotel still flew the flag of St George, as if in solidarity with the neighbours, if not with the wretched Team England.

The old railway's lovely thereafter, through Shotley Bridge station - from which the last blades of that hilly village's once world renowned sword making industry may have been transported - and on, gently, to the pub. Roy Lambeth, chairman of Durham Mining Museum - it's a website, itself much recommended - had written about it. "We only ever manage to have main courses because the helpings are so generous," he said.

It's a Jennings pub, lovely views over the valley, a jokey menu more Jennings Goes to School than Jennings Cumberland Brewery. "Spin doctor" was for some reason a starter of smoked haddock fillet with wilted spinach, creamy garlic and a red pepper puree (£4.95). No mention of guacamole; Mr Mandelson would be grateful.

Since the place overflowed with improbabilia - there was a map of Belgium, shaped like a lion - it was pure coincidence that we sat beneath a spotlit photograph of WT Stead, this newspaper's first great editor.

The William Stead is also the name of the Wetherspoon's pub opening in Darlington on August 21 across the road from this office. Those who've been in reckon there's a sort of WT Stead frieze, on which he appears to be making a rude gesture.

Here he just frowned, unsurprisingly, as if once more required to sign the expenses. Real ales included Jennings King Fisher, a bit bland for a 4.3. Food was out of the question; we shall walk that way again.

Chiefly by road, entirely by design, it was seven miles back to Knitsley. That the OS map thought it in a completely different place from Durham County Council did little to help navigation. Nor did the map indicate the village of Pont, big enough - "Pont and District", indeed - to have its own sports that very afternoon. We passed Hassockfield secure training centre - nee Borstal, formerly detention centre - and roads with names like Fairview and Pleasant View. It was impossible to demur. That part of north-west Durham is a little discovered delight.

Food at Knitsley Mill had been recommended by a reader in Fir Tree, near Crook, who prefers anonymity. It's about three miles south of Consett, not far from the A68, a working mill (it's said) since the 13th century.

These days it's part of a 100-acre site that includes golf course and driving range, airstrip and trout fishery. The bairns with their tadpole nets seemed to be having a whale of a time, too, though the Council for the Preservation of Rural England has been less happy. When the CPRE cries rape, which it has, the allegation is usually taken seriously. It's all owned by Les Smith, a Durham dentist - a "mad dentist" he once called himself in print - among whose more foolhardy wheezes may be counted buying the 70-metre artificial ski slope from the abandoned Spectrum Sports Centre in Willington.

Sadly for Mr Smith, the planning committee wasn't inclined to go along with the idea.

The pub and restaurant has an area called The Granary, another called Country Kitchen, though country kitsch may be more appropriate. There's also a bust of Apollo, the god (among much else) of the bucolic arts.

A single hand pump offered Old Speckled Hen, which may not have been speckled or hen-like but was certainly old. A large bowl of fruit sat on the bar; a customer smoking his head of within a foot of it. The music was irritating, too.

What particularly had appealed to the Fir Tree branch of Readers' Recommend was the deal which offers, from 12-7pm Monday to Saturday, two courses, a glass of wine and a cup of coffee for £7. 50. The blackboard carte is larger, more vivid, but oddly unpriced.

We arrived at 5.30pm, the Mill still turning over nicely. Four starters on the £7.50 menu included seafood linguini ("Very pleasant," she thought) and mushroom gratin with a blue cheese topping on "thick toast." It was nicely presented, very tasty but if there's two things this column knows about it's thick and toast and this was more like boiley.

Four main course choices: pork and apple cider casserole, cottage pie, fish and chips with mushy peas and beef tomato stuffed with cous-cous with saute potatoes. The fish was lightly battered, well cooked and decently sized, the chips so-so, the mushy peas probably less enjoyable than guacamole (per Mr Mandelson, above).

The Boss thought the stuffed tomato enjoyable, too, if perhaps understandably on the small side. The wine made her sneeze like a pepper pot, which is what cheap wine does.

For £7.50 a head, it really wasn't bad at all. As the jolly miller (and doubtless the mad dentist) would say, worth giving it a whirl.

...and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew what's grey and comes out of the wardrobe at 100pmh. Stirling Moth, of course.