W hen Alan Wilkinson was mayor of Barnard Castle, he caused a scare by climbing up a shaky ladder to inspect a gutter on the Witham Hall.

The then town clerk was so alarmed to spot him up there that he hurried to get him insured in case he got up to any other dangerous tricks during his term of office.

"I was the first mayor to be covered in this way, but fortunately I didn't get into any other scrapes," he told me this week after bowing out following a remarkable 46 years as a councillor in the town.

Before he and his wife, Jean, were treated to a dinner by other councillors on Thursday, he recalled that there was a strict dress code when he started.

"We had to wear a suit and tie for full meetings, or a jacket and tie for committees," he said.

"Today some turn up in open neck shirts or football jerseys."

He was so nervous that his voice shook when he made his first speech in 1961.

"I spoke against a proposal to put up houses along Westwick Road," he explained.

"But perhaps I did a bit of good, for the idea was defeated and houses have never been built there. I'm pleased about that."

There were some amusing moments in the council chamber, such as when the late Frank Duffy fell asleep during a meeting, with his elbow on a desk and his hand wavering near his face.

"There was confusion at a vote because he was counted twice, both for and against," reported the amiable Mr Wilkinson. "Then we noticed he was dozing. He had to be wakened and the vote was taken again."

The 46 years included four terms as mayor, hundreds of meetings and a leading role in transforming the Witham Hall from a dilapidated state, leaky and crumbling, into a multi-purpose social centre.

He was also admired as a schoolmaster, cricketer, local historian, poet and author of a series of books.

Many people must have wondered the purpose behind a red plastic heart which has been pinned to a roadside post in Emms Hill Lane, between Woodland and Hamsterley. Roy Wearmouth, of West Cornforth, told me this week that he has been intrigued by it for more than a year.

The heart has been removed several times, but has always been replaced by an identical one, though nobody seems to know who is responsible.

Mr Wearmouth kept seeing it on his regular trips to the area and eventually left a note beside it, asking the person who leaves them to explain his actions.

On his next visit, he found a reply from an "old guy" stating: "The hearts are left for a lady who is very special to me - one of life's sad stories, all my fault."

The mystery man added that 17 hearts had been taken but he had replaced them all.

He felt the lady involved may never have seen them.

He declared that the story behind his sadness was too long to relate. Mr Wearmouth hopes the love-struck fellow will get in touch with this column to explain more.

Who knows - it might just lead to his lady love getting in touch and turning his sorrow to happiness?

Neville Kirby, known as a musical maestro in Teesdale through conducting choirs, leading carol singers, teaching guitar and playing accordion, has written a short history of the Methodist Church in Ingleton, which is celebrating its centenary with a special service on Sunday, June 10.

He says how grocer John Emmerson and joiner William Young brought Methodism to the village in 1820 by writing to William Clowes, one of the founders of the Primitive movement.

He paid a visit to preach and County Durham's first Primitive Methodist Society was formed.

The three men walked through Ingleton singing a hymn, and a trio will re-enact this scene during the centenary.

The present church was built in 1907, at a cost of £497, on a site donated by John Thornton.

Mr Kirkby says that after moving to the village from Cockfield, he was sitting at home in 1970 when he heard carollers going round.

He decided to join them with his accordion the next year and since then, they have raised many thousands of pounds, mainly for medical research.

Ethel Bainbridge, who helped with the history, recalled a Sunshine Corner held in the vestry in the 1920s and 30s.

It always began with this chorus: Sunshine Corner, oh, it's jolly fine/It's for children under 99/All are welcome, seats are given free/Ingleton Sunshine Corner is the place for me.

They all sat on wobbly wooden forms.

"If some sat too near one end the forms would tilt like a see-saw," said Miss Bainbridge.

"It happened often, to the delight of the children and despair of the leader."

Impressive scarecrows can be seen around Barnard Castle at the moment, but one has disappeared.

It depicted a choir girl and stood by the door of St Mary's Parish Church. But one night this week it burned down, leaving just two sticks and a pair of shoes. Was it set alight deliberately?

"I'm afraid so," said the vicar, the Reverend Alec Harding. "Spontaneous combustion doesn't happen in scarecrows."

It was made by junior church members, who decided sadly against making a replacement in time for the Meet festivities this weekend.