Durham bishp Holy Mouley predicted a Second Coming for 1920 but sadly never lived to see if his prediction came true.

TIM Cannam writes, appealingly, from Harperley, near Crook. "Since you are obviously interested in all sorts of useless information," he begins, and could hardly have got off to a better start.

The useless information to which Tim particularly refers is in a 1919 edition of the Expository Times, the sort of magazine in which you don't even understand the subject headings, much less what comes beneath them.

This one's explicit, however. Dr Handley Moule, then the Bishop of Durham, had not only publicly forecast that the Second Coming of Christ would happen the following year but that it would be attended by the resurrection of the dead and the rapture of the living.

"It would seem that not only recent Bishops of Durham have been lovable eccentrics," adds our correspondent.

Dr Moule - pronounced as in black, furry animal and therefore known among more irreverent elements in the diocese as Holy Mouley - was regarded as a man of much saintliness.

Even when watching Bishop Auckland play football, recalls Durham Cathedral deputy librarian Roger Norris, he would remark "What an absolutely blessed goal" rather than join the more vociferous celebrations of fellow spectators.

Not even the hugely helpful Mr Norris, however, had come across the bishop's vision of the apocalypse. "It's extraordinary," he says, "though I can't think that Durham was agog."

Well, actually, it might have been. Mr Norris's subsequent reference to a 1922 biography of the bishop finds account of an address at Etherley (of all the crucibles of history) in which he spoke of "the rapidly approaching end of the world."

"It caused a great sensation in the crowd," an onlooker recalled. "He spoke with such dramatic intensity that some of the audience became almost hysterical."

All sorts of remarkable things did happen in 1920, of course. Pope Benedict XV banned the film "Holy Bible" because Adam and Eve were naked, Nellie Melba made the first advertised radio broadcast, Huddersfield Town won the FA Cup and Spion Kop the Derby, the US banned the sale and manufacture of alcohol - it didn't last - funny man Fatty Arbuckle was charged with murder, Sylvia Pankhurst got six months for sedition and Rudyard Kipling won £2 damages after a medical firm used part of his poem "If" in an advertisement.

The history books offer nothing of the Second Coming, however. Apocalypse not just at the moment.

Dr Moule, Durham's bishop from 1901 and a student prize winner for Latin odes and epigraphs, had been a chaplain to both Victoria and to the more wayward Edward VII.

His forecast of the Second Coming, as opposed to the end of the world, was based on an almost mathematical interpretation of the Bible.

"No man is likely to know better," said the Expository Times. ""Dr Moule is a good scholar and a good man. It is under the heaviest sense of responsibility that he has come to his conclusion."

Though the Second Coming appears nonetheless to have been delayed, one other event in 1920 needs to be noted. Holy Mouley, the much loved Bishop of Durham, died in office on May 8, aged 78. He is buried in Elvet Garth churchyard, in Durham.

WHEN Tim Cannam writes of "lovable eccentrics" within the see of Durham, he doubtless includes Dr David Jenkins - now 77, happily still with us and by every account as busy as ever.

This Sunday, indeed, Dr Jenkins - who may only agree with one part of Mr Cannam's description - will be in Bishop Auckland to help lead the 40th anniversary celebrations of Woodhouse Close church.

Originally it was Methodist only. The Church of England's nearest redoubt was the tiny church of St Luke in the now vanished village of Fylands.

Since 1971, however, there's been a formal ecumenical partnership there. Whilst Anglican and Methodist hierarchy wrestle - only this week - with the heavyweight mysteries of church unity, on the Woodhouse Close estate 31 years ago they just went ahead and did it.

"We weren't the first but among the first in the country," says John Armstrong, in at the start and now ecumenical officer for both churches in the Durham diocese and Darlington Methodist district.

"These days it's seamless at Woodhouse Close," says John. "Most of them would remember roots in the Church of England or Methodism, but to all intents they're just church people. It works very well."

Full unity between the two churches? Like the Second Coming, some things take a little longer.

HOOFING hopefully up the A68, the column is picked up - in a strictly Good Samaritan sense, of course - by Norman and Betty Deacon, stalwarts of Tow Law.

Betty was awarded the MBE after many years at Tow Law post office, Norman's a pillar of St James Church and an expert flower arranger. We've been invited to open their flower festival, more later, on September 13.

More pressing news is that the column's old friend Peter Davis, the amiably acclimatised Aussie who is Tow Law's vicar, is recovering in Darlington Memorial after a 1am hernia operation.

"They didn't realise he was a priest at first," says Norman. "I think there might have been a bit of swearing going on."

Peter had just returned from a holiday in his homeland. He's a good bloke, get well soon.

...and finally via e-mail - "bloody computer" he says - a message from 86-year-old John "Basher" Alderson, the guy who went from Horden to Hollywood.

Since most now know his remarkable silver screen success story, a note instead on what the chaplain at the Motion Picture Actors Home - we said it was to be a churchy column - told them last week.

Doctors at the local hospital - which by the sound of it could have been anywhere in the NHS - were asked their views on an expensive new wing.

The dermatologists preferred no rash moves, the gastroenterologists had a gut feeling about it, the neurologists thought they had a lot of nerve;

The obstetricians thought they were labouring under a misconception, the opthalmologists considered the idea short-sighted, the orthopaedists issued a joint resolution;

The pathologists yelled "Over my dead body", the paediatricians said "Grow up", the psychiatrists said it was madness, the surgeons washed their hands of the whole thing;

The radiologists could see right through it, the internists thought it a hard pill to swallow, the plastic surgeons said it put a whole new face on the matter, the podiatrists thought it a big step forward, the urologists thought the scheme wouldn't hold water, the cardiologists didn't have the heart to say no - and the column, with that cleared off its chest, aims for another clean bill of health next week.