THE Ireshopeburn Literary Institute may be little used for the purpose originally intended, but there is reading matter, nonetheless. On a windowsill stand precisely 13 well-patronised paperbacks of the sort sometimes known as trashy novels; on the wall hang the rules drawn up in 1900 - four years after the building opened - for the premises' proper conduct and for the discouragement of the more grievous anti-social habits of the day.

The get-thee-behind-me temptation is to re-print them all, run the column into the overflow channel and go for a little lie down.

Since lead mining no longer takes place in Co Durham, however, there had best be no lead swinging, either. The following must suffice:

Rule 5. The monthly subscription shall be paid on or before the first Monday after the lead company's pay day, between the hours of 6-7pm .

Rule 7. No member is allowed to talk in the reading room if any other member present objects.

Rule 8. No member shall keep a newspaper more than 15 minutes after it has been asked for by another member, unless the company present unanimously agree to have some portion of it read audibly.

Rule 16. Any member whistling or making any unnecessary noise in the Institute to be cautioned for the first offence and for the second offence to be fined 6d.

Rule 20. Spitting on the floor shall not be allowed and any member detected doing so, after first being cautioned, shall be fined sixpence for each offence.

Ireshopeburn is at the breathless end of Weardale, its name frequently mispronounced - try Ayezupburn - and almost as often split amidships.

Throughout this month, a series of arts and crafts exhibitions are held there, supported by what too modestly are termed "light lunches" and by the wonderfully cheery village ladies who make and serve them.

Stitch in time, we stumbled upon the Durham County Embroidery Group - the late Amy Emms, proudly Weardale, won the MBE for her embroidery - and upon a lady from Spennymoor who invited us back home for steak and kidney pie.

"Proper pastry," she said, knowledgeably, "not the stuff you don't like."

There'd been a run on the tomato soup, they said, only enough left for one. The one bowl-full could nonetheless have sustained all Ireshopeburn and West Blackdene and two-thirds of Daddry Shield. Others asked and were reluctantly refused, the last man like cat and cream.

The soup was simply delicious, likewise the attendant cottage loaf, but there was almost insurrection in Ireshopeburn.

We followed with scrambled eggs, dropped some on the floor, surreptitiously recovered lest there be a sixpenny fine and the Literary Institute bring us to book.

The Boss had a manifestly home-made tuna pizza with good, crisp salad; we both followed with wonderfully-fresh lemon cheesecake, tea and coffee. Before revealing the cost of this perfect summer lunch, however, some credits:

Soup by Dorothy Fenton; pizza, Liz Gill; scrambled eggs, Karen Evans; cheesecake and bread, Michelle Robson; butter, Stanhope and Weardale Co-op.

The bill, for two, was £7.90. We also took home several jars of Yvonne Raine's jam and marmalade, and preserve it still.

The embroiders are there until August 10, "basket weaving and blacksmith" from August 11-17 - basket weaving demonstrations on August 11 and Aug 14 - Frosterley art group from August 18-24 and the Gillender Gallery ("photography, capturing the beauty of creation") until the end of the month.

Any would make for a lovely day out - refreshments 11am-4pm. Literally splendid.

WITH no more obvious literary connection other than that it's above the County library - and that we'd just taken coffee in the Bishop of Durham's seriously book-lined study - we also lunched (again) at Bishop Auckland Town Hall.

As we have remarked before, it is beyond argument Bishop's best bet, though attempts to persuade them to serve real ale have failed rather miserably.

(A pint of municipal John Smith's Smooth is £1.95, outrageous unless used for sanitary inspection purposes.)

We began with tomato and pasta soup (£1.65), pondered the parmesan, polenta and arabatia sauce with which to follow until learning that arabatia sauce is also tomato-based and opting instead for the bangers and mash, £3.05 with a good, old English onion gravy.

There's a "dinner of the day", too, and following the dinner of the day a tea dance in the hall next door, a sort of every man for himself affair in which the female of the species are very greatly in the majority.

We looked in, they played Mr Wonderful, we left.

The tea dances, £1 at the door, are every Tuesday from 1.30-3.30pm. The Laurel Room caf is open Monday-Saturday. Real ales may need further council resolution.

THE Campaign for Real Ale's national beer festival last week named JHB, brewed by Oakham in Peterborough, Britain's best beer. Brain's Dark was best mild, JHB best bitter, RCH Pitchfork the best "best" bitter, Hop Back Summer Lightning the best strong bitter, Oakham White Dwarf the best specialist beer and RCH Ale Mary the best bottle conditioned beer. None of the North-East entries was in the top three in any category.

REFLECTING upon village names which sound like they've been too long at the bar, last week's column wondered if there'd ever been a pub of the same name at Royal Oak - now barely a hamlet on the A68 above West Auckland.

The Echo's photographic and cuttings files were indecently bare, though we could offer Roxby, Rochester and Ross-on-Wye. Harry Smurthwaite and Keith Hopper happily knew rather more.

Both were Shildon lads. Though they rang independently, between them they now hold the offices of chairman, secretary and first team captain at Bishop Auckland Cricket Club with a combined age of 132 not out.

Certainly there'd been a Royal Oak at Royal Oak, they agreed, beloved of Shildon folk who'd stroll up on sunny summer evenings through Brusselton Woods or Bluebell Valley.

"It was the first pub I was ever in, a glass of lemonade and a cheese sandwich," said Harry.

"About the size of someone's front room, a real old-fashioned place even then," said Keith.

There was an English oak tree, too - believed like just about every other in the kingdom to have sheltered the fugitive King Charles II - a garage and another pub.

These days, Royal Oak is where the districts of Darlington, Teesdale and Sedgefield administratively embrace, with Wear Valley awaiting an invitation not more than a mile away. There's no pub and no oak tree, just Stonehouse Chapel - a cottage attractively converted from Primitive Methodism - and Wideopen House, which may need no further explanation.

Probably they could call it Self-Evident Street, but we'd still welcome more information on Royal Oak.

Downhill from Royal Oak is Bildershaw Bank and the Wheatside Hotel, a mile to the west the recently admired Countryman at Bolam. Southwards along the A68, the Dog has cocked a leg since the days when the landlord had to be a blacksmith as well.

It's well kept, attractive gardens, inexpensive food, fund-raising locals, cask Magnet. A huge cod and chips was better than the chicken and bacon salad which had had a long shift, but the plus points outweighed it. There'll be no giving the Dog a bad name here.

....and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew what happened to the egg in a monastery.

It went out of the frying pan and into the friar.

Published: Tuesday, August 7, 2001