Writing columns as diverse as these, it would be possible with some justification to subscribe to at least two dozen specialist publications (if unlikely that the company would cheerfully meet the paper bill.)

In the event, the only one which regularly arrives is the Church Times, this week's issue marked by a large and improbable recruitment ad for the Campaign for Real Ale - "it takes all sorts," it professes.

The only priest we know who confesses to CAMRA membership is Fr Stephen Cooper, vicar of St Columba's in downtown Middlesbrough, and even he tends to hide his light ale under a bushel.

Among more regular Church Times features is the listing of new clergy appointments, the number of churches under each priest's care growing apace as the black and white line becomes stretched ever more thinly.

This week's edition, for example, announces that the Rev Nicholas Denham, aged 54, is to move from Coventry to be priest-in-charge of "Escomb, and Etherley, of Witton Park, and of Hamsterley and Witton-le-Wear".

Within fairly recent memory, those village parishes west of Bishop Auckland were covered by four priests, the late and much lamented Nick Beddow - the Voracious Vicar himself - in charge of both Witton Park and Escomb.

It's not so much that which is worrying, however, as the fact that North-East village place names seem so prosaic compared to those in other parts of England.

Here, from the same issue, is the Rev Christopher Walter's new job description in Norfolk: "Priest-in-charge of Buxton with Oxnead, Lammas, and Brampton, and of Coltishall with Great Hautbois and Horstead, to be also priest-in-charge of Marsham with Burgh-next-Aylsham."

The North-East seems so much more earth bound by comparison. The Campaign for Rural Appellation starts here; it will be known as CAMRA for short.

Ad hoc as always, the ineluctably observant Janet Murrell in Durham returns whence it came last week's classified for a "guilt edged mirror", as new. Ah, says Janet, the price of vanity....

Further reflections from Thomas Ferguson, who takes exception to last week's Aldous Huxley inspired note on Brave New Billingham.

Some years ago, he says, the author Beryl Bainbridge expressed similarly saturnine sentiments while on a round Britain writing tour.

"I wrote to her in turn, bowing to her superior knowledge. She must have been an expert on ugliness as she saw it everyday when applying her lipstick," says Mr Ferguson, ungallantly.

Though it is possible that Gadfly doesn't use lipstick, he concedes, there must still be a mirror in the house.

Since yobs threw stones at his car in High Etherley - shortly to share a new vicar - he's even prepared to mitigate for the bunch who stoned me and two young sons while waiting for a train at Billingham railway station.

The philosophy about people in glasshouses may apply, nonetheless.

In for a penny if not for a Poundstretcher, Graham Hatch refutes that the problem with Billingham town centre is that it has too many quids-in type shops. There aren't any, he insists, but accepts that Billingham has big problems.

"I find it strange that places such as Stockton and Thornaby seem to get improvements to their town centres while in Billingham we've been waiting for years while various parties dither over what to do.

"A good example of what should be done physically is Hartlepool. Their town centre was once very similar to Billingham's, so why can't we have the same?

Robert Bacon, Shildon lad but long in Billingham, has even proposed a showdown. The 5s and 3s match will take place shortly.

Maurice Heslop was described in last week's column as "Billingham lad and probably quite proud of it" - and takes exception, too. "I'm a West Hartlepool lad and my wife and I still have Hartlepool United season tickets," he protests. "I just happen to live in Billingham, that's all."

Caught with its etymological trousers down, and by no means for the first time, the column appears to have been mistaken over the origin of the word "hooker".

Lying back and pondering such things a few months ago, we rushed to the hallucinatory holy grail that the word was a left handed salute to American Civil War general Joseph Hooker, whose headquarters were described as a cross between a bar room and a brothel.

Two recent and very similar books agree, however, that while Fighting Joe was no angel - and by all accounts not much of a soldier, either - a court martial would clear him of that one.

Though its origins remain obscure, the word "hooker" in that context was recorded when little Joseph was barely a twinkle.

While we're about it, incidentally, Sir Thomas Crapper - though an eminent Victorian sanitary engineer - neither invented the flushing toilet nor lent his name to the language.

"Crap" is from middle English. The guys were just named and framed, that's all.

Word Myths by David Wilton (Oxford University Press, £13.50; Port Out Starboard Home (and Other Language Myths) by Michael Quinion (Penguin, £12.99.)

....and Tim Stahl in Darlington received an envelope with the inscription: "Important - this is not a circular which the current occupier must read." Curious, he opened it nonetheless.

Walking wounded, the past two columns have made much of an obdurate and sometimes quite painful ankle ulcer which stubbornly refuses to heal.

Mrs P Rayner in Chester-le-Street urges patience. Poor Mrs Rayner had ulcers on both legs for two and a half years, treated sympathetically by staff at the town's Cestria Health Centre.

Finally they healed in time for a particularly happy Christmas, Mrs Rayner properly anxious to thank all concerned for their devotion.

Whilst it is good news for her, however, the tidings may not be so propitious for the long suffering Sister Julie, the nurse in charge of such sore points at the Good Doctor's.

If the going rate (as it were) is two and a half years, this one still has 27 months outstanding. We hop to it again next week.

Published: 26/01/2005