The Green at Billy Row, near Crook, lives up to its glowing reputation, leaving the column bowled over.

THE last time we were in Billy Row - and only heaven and Mr David Simpson may know who Billy was - was for the closing service of the Methodist church, exactly three years ago. There've been times when the village pub was on its knees, too.

It's one of those former mining communities which crowd above Crook like colliers at kicking out time, a geographical three foot seam where Grahamsley, Roddymoor, Peases West, Billy Row, White Lea and ultimately Stanley Hill Top jostle cheek by jowl for air and attention and where only microsurgery may separate one from t'others.

That Peases West school appears to be in Billy Row may be considered unhelpful in that respect.

The pub's called The Green, and we'd heard good things about it. A banner proclaiming the "Coor's National Pub Food Award 2003-04" offered further suggestion of achievement, to which the temporary absence of a free table only added.

The most telling evidence of all, however - though probably not the sort of thing you can put on a banner headline above the bay window - may be that under Ian and Michelle Blythe's tenure, business has quadrupled in two years.

They've worked hard at it, embraced the whole community in all sorts of ways, found the affection warmly reciprocated. "The locals are lovely, it helps a lot," said Ian.

Then there was our old friend Bev McMahon, whose thermal imaging while long-time tea lady up at Stanley United included the provision of Britain's best Bovril.

Bev had been standing in while the Blythes had a few days away. After the extremes of the hill top, the pub would have been a picnic. We lunched with friends who'd not been there for 25 years, one of whom has multiple sclerosis and uses a wheelchair. Ian couldn't have been more helpful, or solicitous, though the step to access the disabled toilet seemed a bit counter-productive.

The gents, so often an indicator, were immaculate and decorated with a large bunch of artificial flowers - though not, happily, the bottles of the poncey, pongy stuff which are now so frequently found in such places and lead to the briefly alarming thought that you're in the wrong end by mistake.

The really smart bit is that all sections of the community - drinkers, diners, pool playing youngsters - seem successfully and semi-separately to be catered for in the open plan design.

On Saturday evenings there's entertainment, too. Ms Dusty Gold, glistering this weekend, will doubtless breathe more easily at news that she is billed as a "live" vocalist, as opposed (presumably) to the other sort.

The menu knows its market - generously proportioned, very good value, not overly ambitious - though we were much taken with the listed "puffy brie with raspberry goulis".

Some sort of sweetbread, presumably.

So finally we were shown to a table, those at the next one forsaking their food and fleeing as suddenly as if someone had shouted "Fire" or, worse, "Nash".

The cod goujons with coleslaw, salad and a dip were as good as they get, the steak and mushroom pie the size of a good book - not to be confused with THE good book, that was in the chapel - and the sort of thing that grandma would have baked. We would again plead, however, for a separate gravy boat.

Vegetables included turnip spiced with something The Boss thought might be cardamom, and which cheered it up no end. Good chips overflowed a bowl so vast it could have doubled as the Olympic velodrome.

We eyed it incredulously, a signal which the waitress appeared to misread. "If yiz wants some more," she said, "yiz only have to ask". The other meals included a Lambton worm among Cumberland sausage rings (£4.95) and The Boss's salmon, which she would have preferred not to have been swimming in a small sea of garlic butter.

It's a very good place, though: hugely friendly folk, pristine pint of Pedigree, convivial pub atmosphere. Green light, undoubtedly.

l The Green, Billy Row, near Crook (01388 764655.) Open Friday-Sunday lunchtime and every evening, early bird specials served 5-7pm, two meals for £6.95.

WHILE pondering about Billy and his row, what of Dan's Castle - still a distinct part of Tow Law? Whither Dan, where the Englishman's home? A moochabout the other night reveals that the Dan's Castle Inn has closed, though the Dan's Castle fish and chip shop (known locally as Monica's) still fries in the face of the elements. Cod and chips were £3.30, warming on a July night in the sub-Arctic.

NEWS of a disgrace. The Castle Eden Inn, on the go since 1758 and for almost 200 years the brewery tap for some outstanding beer - mostly Nimmo's - no longer sells a single real ale.

We looked in last Wednesday evening, after an hour with the east Durham village's cricketers. Only the residual Whitbread sit up and keg, the wretched Roughwith and one or two other mass produced monoliths were on offer.

A rather smaller disgrace, we arrived at 8.35pm, asked if food were still available, were given a menu and were told by the barman that the waitress would be across for the order.

The waitress stood at the end of the bar, scratched her ear, picked up a few empties, served a few meals, walked past us and the menu several times and did nothing.

Just when we'd wanted the "mushrooms complimented by a plum compote" - Oh handsome mushrooms, oh glorious mushrooms - an' all.

Still unattended, we set off after half an hour for the coast, and to fulfil an ambition.

WITHOUT ever once darkening their door, how often has the column supposed that the Chinese takeway with the neatest name in Britain is the Blackhall Wok? How often have we passed - wokked that way - and found the shutters down?

This time it was blessedly open - it opens every evening except Tuesday. The Boss had the chicken Peking, we the duck with black bean sauce, both with egg fried rice. The bill reached £12.90.

We headed for the well-signed Blackhall Rocks picnic site from which clifftop walks now attractively open out, learned that the village is supposed to have got its name because locals knew the sea caves as the black holes, ate a substantial supper amid a force five wind and enjoyed the experience enormously.

As Mr Neil Diamond almost observed, love on the Woks.

THE Garden of India in Darlington, about which we enthused a month ago, plans a major charity evening on July 20 to raise funds towards cancer care at the town's Memorial Hospital.

Manager Ahmed Ali promises free Bombay Export beer all night - courtesy of the brewers - plus Indian dancers and entertainers and, he hopes, a very special guest. The full menu will be available. "People have been very kind to us in Darlington. We're very happy to be able to help," says Ahmed. Tables are filling fast. Bookings on (01325) 467975.

...and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew the difference between a thief and a church bell.

One steals from the people, the other peals from the steeple.