WORN like a favourite 45, thumbed like a contemptuous nose, an elderly copy of the Guinness Book of Hit Singles sits, when not stolen, is in the office next to this one.

On the same page as Mike Sarne, Peter Sarstedt and Santa Claus and the Christmas Trees, sandwiched between the Saturday Night Band and Telly Savalas, is Edna Savage, UK female vocalist.

Edna's was a snatch of fame, a single week at number 19 in January 1956 with a Parlophone record called Arrivederci, Darling and forever thereafter among the also songs.

It is not, of course, to suggest that she was a seven day wonder. A couple of weekends back she reprised at the Harbour of Refuge on Hartlepool Headland and by all accounts was terrific. "Proper singing," they said.

The column tied up a few days later, steered in that direction - and towards some great fish and chips - by retired detective superintendent Keith Readman of Durham Constabulary, who had himself taken shelter from the storm.

His first choice was to have been Verrill's fish shop further along, one of several places where the urban legendary Mr Peter Mandelson is said to have confused mushy peas and guacamole dip.

The February weather being unfitted to fish and chips on the promenade, however, Keith took refuge in the Harbour. "Excellent," he reported and so it is, though the old super's description of a "fine pint of John Smith's Smooth" would be held by some tap room tribunals to be a contradiction in terms.

The Old Town, too - stirring, sea-blown, sympathetically safeguarded - abundantly rewards exploration. Still known locally as The Pot House in memory of the marbled tiles which covered the exterior, the pub was one of Vaux's. You can tell by the way they fouled up the facade, branded like a cow's backside.

Inside, however, it's fantastic - buccaneering old bar, light and attractive restaurant with views towards open sea, laid back lounge dedicated to heroic former Hartlepool lifeboat coxswain Robbie Maiden who, awarded the BEM, had it presented in the pub.

The bar is beamed, buoyant, sea coal fired except when the prawn boats are in and then they sea shell it instead. A monkey, almost inevitably, was suspended from the ceiling. They're proud of their heritage in Hartlepool.

Among those in was Brian Stringer, masterminding the restoration of the old lifeboat, Kenny Griffiths whose paintings hang on many of the walls - there's a terrific depiction of those who hanged the poor animal - and a chap who every New Year's Day gives a fag to be labelled and kept in a jar on the back fitting. He only ever buys ten a year, reminiscent of Bobby Thompson, who bought 20 Woodbines in 1938 and only had three left.

"Why yer knaa," he would tell his audiences, "they just greed them off yer."

The pub is cheerfully presided over by Jackey Swales, who looks a bit like her who now has the Rovers and who declines to adopt a posh spelling of her Christian name just because it's going in the paper.

The restaurant, open lunchtimes only, offers three courses for £3, cod - Hartlepool cod - chips, guacamole substitute, bread and butter for £3.75 and haddock for five bob extra. The fish is huge, the mushy peas to plodge in, the value extraordinary. The soup, it should be said, was not only not in the same league but would have been relegated from the Hartlepool and District, but that is a caveat and not a counter argument.

Back in the bar, great bowls of chips and sausages and things were laid out for the regulars. It is the sort of atmospheric, welcoming, neighbourly, gossip filled, vivid emporium that, if only it sold real ale, would have the CAMRA crews setting sail in flotillas.

A tremendous pub, nonetheless - and since Edna Savage is thought still to be on Teesside, it would be lovely to hear from her. Arrivederci for now.

ROTARY club dinners are traditionally and notoriously dire, not least because the per capita budget (as Rotarians are given to say) demands change from a ten shilling note. The one we attended last Monday, however - and there are good reasons for anonymity - was so ineffably awful that before introducing the speaker the president felt obliged to have a quiz. "The main course was supposed to be chicken curry. Has anyone seen a piece of chicken?"

A LETTER from Michael Hunt in Durham may reverberate, pianissimo, around discerning diners everywhere.

Michael was eating in a former stately home near Keighley in West Yorkshire, just four occupied tables and a stereo speaker - "disco drivel" - for each one.

All four agreed it was intolerable. Michael, if he could be heard above the babel, was appointed spokesman.

The assistant manager ("a lovely young lady") apologised profusely but said that the boss had gone for a few hours, the office was locked and the sound system controls were behind that door.

Still the murmur of disgruntled diners rose synchronically with the sound. The assistant manager stood on a chair and - "systematically and unscientifically" - ripped the wires from the back of each speaker. The room stood and applauded; the column joyfully joins the echo.

THE Monboucher restaurant, billed (and by no means alone) as "the place to eat in Co Durham", opens in the Grade II listed Beamish Hall, near Stanley, later this month.

Latterly it was the administrative offices of Beamish Museum. Last time the Boss was there, museum staff had buckets to catch the leaks.

Boasting "first class service, a modern menu and stylish decor" the new place gets under way with a VIP opening on March 26. It's another invitation the column has had to decline.

NOR will we be first footing in Consett tonight when Inn Suburbia opens its new place in the former Co-op. The first, promising "a city centre venue on your doorstep", was launched in a converted church in Cramlington two years ago. Inn Suburbia is described as a "wet and dry venue operator", which presumably means that they sell food and drink.

The new place has "Mediterranean" restaurant, function room and, shortly, "Storm bar". More later.

PROSAICALLY named, predictably furnished, the Stone Bridge Inn at Nevilles Cross, Durham, also offers a pretty standard menu, with two-for-one main courses between 3-7pm. A perfectly good pork steak with honey and mustard sauce and an overflowing plate of lasagne at 1.45pm were £10 between them. The Pedigree - that is to say, the cask ale - was excellent. There'll be much worse under the bridge than this.

...and finally, the bairns wondered (rather worryingly) if we knew what has antlers and sucks your blood.

A moose-quito, of course.

Published: Tuesday, March 5, 2002