Seeking shelter from the torrential downpours, the column finds more than mythical sustenance at the Ancient Unicorn at Bowes.

IN the Book of Genesis, it will be recalled, the rain fell upon the earth for 40 days and 40 nights but that it was another five months before the floods completely subsided and Noah could nip down to the paper shop with the dog, or dogs.

Genesis also reckons that old Noah was 600 at the time - 600, two months and 17 days, to be precise - though the bit about things which you're liable to read in the bible not being necessarily so may just be applicable here.

Since the weather has been pretty similar this awful August, it seemed a good idea to find a pub called the Ark of the Covenant or the Antediluvian Arms or some such, and since none floated to mind we plodged off instead to the Ancient Unicorn in Bowes, near the Pennine Way in Teesdale.

The unicorn is mythical, of course. It never did miss the boat or find itself on the horn of a dilemma, though that didn't stop Mr Charles Addams from drawing his famous cartoon of disappearing ark and anxious animal, nor Mr Val Doonican from singing about unicorns from the warmth of the nearest fireside.

A long time ago when the earth was green

There were more kinds of animals than you've ever seen

Everyone ran round free while the earth was being born

But the loveliest of all was the unicorn.

There's another unicorn carved on the side of the Bowes bar, though The Boss thought it more like a Thelwell pony with a horn in the middle of its forehead. This seemed unfair, if only to Norman Thelwell.

It was Monday evening, the A66 swimming, the coal fire welcoming, the sky almost dark by eight o'clock. "It's the first time I've realised that the shortest day comes in August," said Tony Leete, the exceedingly affable owner.

Just a handful of others were in attendance, a pity since it's an immaculately maintained pub with three Jennings real ales and an extensive blackboard menu. "Everyone's cancelling, it's as bad as it was with foot-and-mouth in 2001," said Tony, a former RAF policeman who for nine years has run the pub with Linda Birkett, his partner.

"RAF policeman go round in threes," he insists. "One who can read, one who can write and the third to guard the intelligentsia."

The problem, and we should have checked, is that on Mondays they only serve food to residents. Two evenings later we returned, the landlord having beaten a retreat to the Edinburgh Military Tattoo but Nico Human, the newish chef, buoyant out the back.

Nico - remarks about Human resources may be inserted here - had his own seafood restaurant back home and worked at the acclaimed Bridgewater Arms at Winston, between Darlington and Barnard Castle, before earning his buttons at Bowes.

It was much busier, the dominoes team knocking away in the adjoining bar but apparently not doing very well. In Teesdale dominoes is what might be called a unisex game; in the Darlington and District 5s and 3s League men are men and women are forbidden.

We thought about offering a little coaching, but repented of the effrontery.

The blackboard looked inviting, but The Boss had to read it out loud, like being back at school. Fish remains prominent, though there is little to suggest a Springbok in the kitchen.

The prawn risotto was moist and nicely flavoured, the scallops similarly appreciated. The duck and mango salad would have been a very nice idea but for the dressing, which was to salad dressing what hair shirts are to Hardy Amies. It was just too acid, wholegrain mustard and vinegar having met somewhere in the middle and had an acrimonious and semi-public falling out.

Her swordfish steak was altogether more successful, served with the option of hot or cold sauces - Nico came round to explain - with a good salad of olives, chives, anchovies, gherkins and things. It wasn't, said The Boss, the sort of salad your grandma put in front of you on a Sunday.

Service may best be described as young or (probably to be fair) young and scared stiff.

It was a pleasant, relaxing evening in a very promising place and just as we were leaving, a bus load landed. As probably they've been saying all August, it never rains but it pours.

* The Ancient Unicorn, Bowes, near Barnard Castle (01833 628321). A la carte dinner Tuesday-Saturday, about £35 for three courses for two. Bar meals every day; no problems for the disabled, most of the restaurant non-smoking. (The landlord smokes his pipe outside.)

LEFT hungry on Monday, we headed downstream to Burrell's chip shop in Barnard Castle. The weather, said the friendly fryer, was "damn disgusting."

The fish and chips were much better, particularly the crisp and light batter; the curry sauce came as "Chinese" or "normal." Most people seemed not to be normal.

The highlight may have been the onion rings, which The Boss described as "unequivocally the best I've ever eaten." Unequivocal is a big word for an onion ring, but these were ring leaders, undoubtedly.

THERE'S another Unicorn in Norton-on-Tees High Street, described in the Good Beer Guide as a "superb old village gem" with a fascinating layout, locals who resist change fiercely and a pint of John Smith's Magnet - the main attraction - said to be kept "supremely". We had a couple in there last Thursday evening, a proper pub with bonny barmaids, no music but television in the bar. The GBG was right about the Magnet, an' all.

IN advance of a 15 mile walk - not exactly Paula Radcliffe but neither to be undertaken on an empty stomach - we had a 7am Olympic breakfast at Little Chef at Scotch Corner.

They've been doing the Olympic for ages, not just something which runs round every four years, and one of 11 all day breakfasts from "American" to "low carb". Though no gold medal winner, it gets things off to a pretty good start.

There were no mushrooms, beans a late substitution. "What else haven't we got?" asked one presentable young staff member of another, with a little asperity. The bacon was tasteless, the toast flaccid but the rest was fine and the fried saute potatoes have a deserved reputation.

The problem is cost. If the Olympic £6.99 included coffee, it would be a decent bargain. Since it doesn't or toast, or fruit juice, it can be an expensive beginning to the day.

When they start slimming down the logo, they might try to trim the price list, an' all.

... and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew what kind of hens lay electric eggs.

Battery hens, of course.