It may have been a bad week for the Gunners, but the food at the Wok Inn still hit the spot.

AT approximately 7.55pm last Tuesday, the lights went out over West Auckland, or at least that part of it which is home to the World Cup-winning football club. We sat in the shadowy clubhouse singing When The Lights Go On Over England and doing things that should only be done by consenting adults under cover of darkness - you know, drinking John Smith's Smooth.

They'd been playing Brandon, where the former Black Diamond pub has been given new lustre as an oriental restaurant, the Wok Inn.

"It's very, very good," said one of the Brandon boys, a view also held by Hodgy and the Spennymoor Boxing Academy lads after a recent heavyweight visit. Mind, Hodgy had said, they drank them out of lager.

We followed the next evening.

Brandon, thought once to have been the braun's den, is a couple of miles south-west of Durham city. Though doubtless they were familiar with Durham, it's possible that Nick and Carrie Wool - take-away owners in Chelmsford, Essex - knew nothing of Brandon until discovering it on the Internet while trying to buy a restaurant.

The pub, more recently known as the Brandon Ridge, had been having mixed fortunes. Attractively transformed, it re-opened four months ago.

If it succeeds as it deserves to do, it will be principally because the owners are immensely charming, confident and welcoming - particularly in view of a distressing circumstance which only became apparent as we were leaving.

Like all the best folk, Nick proved to be an Arsenal fan, had all the essentials - replica shirts, elephant skin, defibrillator - even when in Hong Kong.

It had been a rotten week for the Gunners, even Carrie felt it. "It's so unfortunate, they were very tired," she said, thereby showing more sympathy is seven words than certain other spouses (who shall be nameless) have exhibited in 26 years.

The restaurant is simply, boldly and stylishly furnished, the tables well spaced and without cloths. The bar is large, has a pool but, so far, no fish. "Come through, it's warmer," said Nick at once.

The menu chiefly offers Thai and Cantonese cuisine, occasional guests from Mongolia and elsewhere. Between Thai and Cantonese, said the message at the front, there was a strong synergy, yet more impressive if they could have spelt "barbarcue" a bit better.

We asked about "the harmonious dragon and phoenix" - originally snake and white pheasant, now chicken and prawns - about "stir fried three delicacies" (though it was possible to guess what two of them were) and about "Budda's feast".

It was vegetarian, black mushrooms and things. If Buddha wouldn't stand on a gnat, said The Boss profoundly, he was hardly going to have a mixed grill for his supper.

She began with pak-fa rolls - "tender king prawns rolled in fresh bread and deep fried." They were perhaps surprisingly splendid, marvellously moreish. We had the Thai-style hot and sour seafood soup, aromatic and interesting.

Carrie served, helped by a nice young lady in a pretty eastern dress but with an accent which owed more to Browney Colliery than Beijing. Nick had sloped off to the pub, the better to drown his sorrows.

A lot of stir frying goes on. The king prawns in a vibrant coconut sauce was firm, fresh and faultless, if perhaps a little predictable.

The Boss ordered scallops and onions in a chilli and garlic sauce, thought the whole thing first rate. The music machine played the orient's greatest hits, several almost inviting identification. The nearest was Island in the Sun; Taiwan, perhaps.

A single pudding, ice cream fritter in toffee, probably seemed a good idea at the time. They never could do puddings, probably never did.

It was a very welcome discovery, a very pleasant evening, a bit of an eye opener, really. Illuminating, as they never once said in West Auckland.

* The Wok Inn, Brandon Lane, Brandon, near Durham (0191-378-3111.) Open lunchtimes and from 5 30pm. Take-away service, too. No problem for the disabled.

RETURNED from a visit to her homeland, Lynn Briggs in Darlington sends an interesting example of self-denial from the Minneapolis Star Tribune. "Lenten special. All the fried fish U can eat: $9.99."

...and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew what you call a boomerang that doesn't work. A stick.