The last Methodist chapel in Coundon will soon be closing, but preacher John March has no plans to step down from the pulpit

JOHN Marsh, preacher and poet, is marking 50 years around the Methodist circuit. He is 81, a golden oldie as jubilee liners might with great justification suppose. For much of the time he'd walk everywhere, wouldn't have a lift given on a gold plate, they reckon. "I might walk over to Leeholme for the afternoon service, have my tea at someone's house, take the evening service and then walk home again."

What if it was raining? "Then I'd take an umbrella," says John, and there's a snatch of one of his poems which may allude to it all: If you feel you weren't intended For the ministerial strife You can do some work for Jesus In the common walks of life.

He was born and raised on Stanley Hill Top, near Crook, discovered an early sense of social injustice from the means-tested iniquities which daily faced the colliers, went with the rest of the family to the lovely little chapel at Wooley Terrace and was "converted" at 17.

"I'd hesitated for a while," he says, "but finally I gave in."

He became a railway clerk ("proper booking offices in those days"), spent six wartime years in the Army, moved to Shildon in February 1949 - "the Saturday that Shildon beat Bishop Auckland 3-2 in the Amateur Cup," he recalls happily - and has remained there ever since.

For 22 years he played cricket for Shildon BR and was an equally familiar footballer - "not on Good Fridays, though" - and has never misplaced his faith. "It's amazing how much respect people showed me because of where I stood. If a team mate swore, he'd always excuse himself."

When he became a fully-accredited local preacher in 1951, Shildon had seven Methodist chapels - now there's one - and the Shildon circuit, which included the fledgling Newton Aycliffe, had getting on 30.

Coundon had three chapels - Primitive, Wesleyan and the ironically named United Methodists. It was at the surviving Collingwood Street chapel that on Sunday we finally caught up with the champion walker.

Sadly it, too, will close in February. The congregation is ageing, the vandals unrelenting, the cost of repairs and maintenance simply beyond them.

The church is next but one to the celebrated Coundon Conservative Club, decked bravely for Christmas and attended by a congregation of 16 who exchange Christmas cards and gossip - spotted dick and diabetes were mentioned, though we were unable to discern the connection - with equal enthusiasm.

Someone's had a card from Benidorm, the sender reporting that it gets a bit cold at night.

"In Coundon it's a bit cold all day," says her friend.

John, by no means prim and pious, had also written one of his verses about the ceaseless chattering that goes on before church services: I tried to shut the din out and I thought "Ah, there's the rub", I wondered if I'd gone too far, and joined the workmen's club.

They are warmly welcoming, nonetheless - "Our normal congregation's 200 but they heard John was coming," someone says, cheerfully. John also apologises for not being the Rev Graham Carter, chairman of the Darlington Methodist District, who originally had been intended.

We sit half-way back; the pew sheet says June 17.

John reads from Jeremiah, prays that we all might be forgiven our preoccupation with Christmas's "petty frivolities" and for those "disturbed" by news of the church closure, announces that over 50 years he has exhausted everything he could possibly say about John the Baptist and will therefore consider a different kind of preparation.

The sermon again touches upon social justice, quotes Edmund Burke - "Our patience will achieve more than our force will" - embraces in 21 minutes one of the most lucid addresses in memory.

Nor is he one of those preacher men who gesticulates as if playing some sort of spiritual air guitar, preferring instead to grip the sides of the lectern and to tell it as it is.

Afterwards there's speculation about where Coundon's Methodist might relocate - there've been invitations both to neighbouring chapels and to hold services in the village's Anglican church - whilst John Marsh contemplates both the Church's future, and his own.

"Considering the average age, unless something changes the general mood there are almost certainly going to be more closures. You can't help being a bit fearful when there are so few young people to take over."

He himself has no plans to stand down from the pulpit, or to change his walk of life. "I still feel that I have something to say, and if people get sick of the message, they'll tell me.

"Fortunately no one's done it yet. Whatever anyone says, there are still some very kind people about, aren't there?"

John's sons have "cajoled" him into publishing a selection of his poems and songs, on religious and other topics. The book's £3, plus a few bob postage, from John Marsh, 35 Pine Tree Crescent, Shildon, Co Durham.