The darkest of days

In all these years I have never once contemplated using the word arsehole in The Northern Echo, much less committed it to perfidious print, but since it is the very least of it, an arsehole he was, and an ineffable one to boot.

They had queued down Ludgate Hill since shortly after midnight, in order 12 hours later to join the Queen in remembering America's dead.

At 11 o'clock those without hope of access simply stopped where they stood, faced the great cathedral and wondered, perhaps, what on earth might happen next.

It was not for the memorial service, however - or not, at least, for that one - that we were in the City of London last Friday morning.

Gina Weissand, who died in July aged 54, had a quarter of a century ago been an Echo journalist, as loved and respected here as she was at the Press Association, the London Daily News and, latterly, the Daily Mail.

(The Mail, as one of her eulogists observed, might not have been "entirely in keeping" with Gina's political views.)

Her funeral had been at the Jewish crematorium in Golders Green, but the memorial - pre-arranged at the same hour as the national requiem at St Paul's - was barely a quarter of a mile away at St Bride's, the printers' cathedral in Fleet Street. Her parents also attended.

St Bride's has always been a broad church. Though the inky trade has been shot into cyberspace, Fleet Street scattered A-Z through the metropolis, it is the one to which always they return.

As memorials should be, it was a celebration of Gina's life and not a protracted mourning of her death. It began with a Jewish incantation, continued with The Lord's My Shepherd and with three tributes from friends.

Terry Ryle, a sub-editor on the Gazette in Middlesbrough when Gina was in the Echo's Boro office, even produced a letter to her from Dennis Stafford - convicted of the still notorious "one armed bandit" slaying of Angus Sibbett at South Hetton.

She had covered the case, wrote Stafford, with the Echo's customary fair mindedness and accuracy but since he considered the phrase "gangland murderer" a little over the top, he would be grateful if in the future she could kindly moderate her language. She didn't, of course.

Terry also recalled that, on one of their early 1970s sorties into Teesdale, Gina had shocked the landlord of the Cross Keys - the location sadly unspecified, but only two come to mind - by insisting on getting the drinks in.

When the landlord declined to serve her - the age of equality not having reached the Barnard Castle area at the time - Gina led out the menfolk in protest.

"Unfortunately," said Terry, "some of the women feature writers of Fleet Street still do not share her view about buying a round. As always, Gina was ahead of her time."

Because they were songs she liked, the coruscating choir sang Mad About the Boy and Summertime and Sit Down You're Rocking the Boat and at the moment the world remembered the victims of the American atrocity we cherished little Gina, too. To Gina, said Terry, rocking was what the boat was for.

BACK to the office that evening, where a gently chiding e-mail from the Stokesley Stockbroker regretted our absence from his company soiree earlier in the week. Still, the Stockbroker has kindly sent the quiz sheet given to those present, from which readers have ten seconds to name a British prime ministers in the past 50 years without the letter "a" in his name. An answer at the end.

EAR to the ground as ever, we revealed 18 months ago the neglected state of a First World War listening post - a Grade II* listed building - on the Ings estate at Redcar.

Others have been paying attention, too - one ing led to another, it might be said - and a little ceremony on October 1 will mark the completion of a clean up project and the unveiling of a plaque to explain what the 4.5 metre structure is still doing there.

"To the uninitiated it might just seem like a lump of concrete, but really there's quite a story to it," says Stuart Ramsdale of Redcar and Cleveland Council.

The listening post was a sort of Fylingdales forerunner, one of a network which by use of triangulation warned of the approach of enemy airships - since Zeppelins weren't built for speed, sometimes four hours away.

Its restoration owes much to 86-year-old Vera Robinson, a formidable local heritage campaigner - "she has a fair bit of clout," says Mr Ramsdale - and to the Cleveland Buildings Preservation Group.

"It's a unique part of our heritage locally and nationally. We're delighted to have arranged some tender, loving care," says council leader David Walsh.

Now that they've proved the listening council, however, will they turn attention to cleaning up the Grade II listed privy in Kirkleatham Lane?

Mr Ramsdale admits that he's not been there for a while, reckons it dates back to 1760, has lost count whether it's a two holer or a three holer.

"People are quite fascinated by it," he says. "They wanted to talk about such things years ago, but didn't dare. Now they're more liberated."

The privy council may have something to go on shortly. "We're looking at options," he adds.

THE column is becoming something of a reunion movement. After many words lately on formative years at Bishop Auckland Grammar School, a request from Brian Gardener to help publicise a Class of '61 gathering in Spennymoor.

Brian was a Kelloe lad, delivered 123 copies of The Northern Echo every day, still considers us an essential kick start to the day despite so great a pre-school burden.

Their reunion is in Spennymoor town hall on Saturday September 29 (7pm), for those who 40 years ago passed the 11+ to attend Spennymoor Grammar Technical. So far they've tracked down around 80 former pupils, with a third still unaccounted. They hope the do will raise money for charity as well. Further information from Jean Lennon on (01388) 816187.

OTHER children of the 1960s may recall, as Alan Crosskill does, how those old twin tub washing machines had a habit of wandering around the floor whilst the operation took place. Vibration, apparently.

Alan spent 35 years as an ambulanceman in Cleveland and North Yorkshire, comes clean from those early days about the curious case of the child in the Hoovermatic.

We wrote last year of Call an Ambulance, his first book of memories. Call a Second Ambulance now follows apace.

These days he lives in Hutton Rudby - Doctors Lane, appropriately - describes himself as "writer and raconteur" and gives humorous talks on a life of stretchering a point.

The second book, privately published at £3.99, contains other jolly little stories like what made the district nurse blush and the lady of the Middlesbrough night with "Mild" and "Bitter" tattooed right and left abreast.

They're all highly readable; he swears they're all true. A pinch of salt may help the medicine go down still better.

...and finally, back to the awful events in America. To help the disaster appeal, a new recording of the Trimdon Grange Explosion - among the region's best known and most poignant folk songs - is being made tonight by veteran folk group Skerne.

Lead vocals will be by John Burton, Tony Blair's constituency agent and long time friend. "We're hoping it will strike a chord with many people," says Ian Luck, who is helping make the recording.

The idea arose after Skerne sang the number, written by Thomas Armstrong following an 1882 colliery disaster, to a hushed finale audience at last weekend's Trimdon Folk Festival. The words seem particularly significant:

Let's not think about tomorrow, lest we disappointed be

Our joys may turn to sorrow, as we all may daily see

One day we're strong and healthy, but tomorrow comes a change

As may be seen in the explosion there has been at Trimdon Grange.

The recording is being made in a studio on the Lambton estate near Chester-le-Street; the single will probably sell at £4.99.

More details of that when we have them. The other prime minister, of course, was Winnie.