Battling on two fronts

It's the one which talks of the Quinquireme of Nineveh and of stately Spanish galleons, but which saves the best till last:

Dirty British coaster with its salt-caked smoke stack

Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,

With a cargo of Tyne coal, road-rail, pig-lead,

Firewood, iron-ware and cheap tin trays.

The dirty British coaster's railway equivalent was the Q6, a ubiquitously grimy workhorse, roundly insulted by train spotters as it creaked cacophonously along the back line at Shildon.

What we really wanted was an A4, or a V2 or even a bright burnished B1. What generally we got was a querulous Q6, nameless but called all sorts.

There were 120 of them, built mostly at Darlington either side of the First World War and capable of hauling long loads forever, so long as forever didn't exceed 25mph. When British Rail finally ran out of steam in 1967, however, the whole lot were sentenced, unsentimentally, to the breakers' yard.

Only 63395 survived, saved by fate and by one over the eight. Rhodesia had declared UDI, copper prices were high, BR was cashing in on its redundant assets.

Fortunately, however, the driver rostered to take 63395 on its last lugubrious journey from the Durham coalfield to the scrapyard at Blyth had had one too many the night before and failed to turn in.

In the 24 hour reprieve, the North Eastern Locomotive Preservation Group - "an unwieldy but self-explanatory name" concedes its brochure - raised £2,300 to keep the Q6 on track.

By 1970, 63395 was steaming on the North Yorkshire Moors Railway and had its shining moment in the Shildon cavalcade of 1975. In 1982, it was taken temporarily out of service for a boiler overhaul and has remained out of sight and out of service ever since.

"Every time the poor old Q6 got to the head of the queue, something jumped in front of it," admits NELPG press officer Dan Fawcett.

Now, however, the driving wheels are finally turning full circle. The 83-year-old engine is coming home to Darlington - not to die, but at last to be given new life.

NELPG is to take over part of a workshop on the old North Road site, with the Q6 guaranteed pride of place.

"Within 18 months to two years, we expect her to be steaming out of there and ready for the main line again," says NELPG volunteer Arthur Robinson, from Northallerton. (Arthur's face will be familiar to cricket fans. Nicknamed Rocker, he took 196 first class wickets for Yorkshire in the 1970s, came within two runs of a share with Arnold Sidebottom in the record last wicket partnership and is also a very nice feller.)

NELPG, formed in 1966 - in the dingy upstairs room of a pub near Newcastle Central station, they atmospherically insist - now has over 500 members worldwide and operates six steam engines, each the only survivor of its class.

One of them, the A2 class Blue Peter, makes a "farewell" 240-mile round trip from the North-East on Saturday, before a major overhaul which will take several years. When it calls at Darlington, the council will hand over the lease for the new workshop, where a smaller second engine might also be housed.

Dan Fawcett - "a grease monkey, not the mechanical type" - also had the idea of cosmetically restoring an A4 Pacific called Bittern as Silver Link, the first of the world famous class.

The engine now stands at the George Stephenson museum at Killingworth. "I went around painting everything silver grey, it's been a huge success," says Dan.

The Q6, waiting its turn for 19 years, should be back in Darlington by September. Arthur Robinson, as befits a man with a passion, invariably uses feminine forms of address.

"They were pack horses, donkeys, but they were enormously reliable. Drivers might sometimes abuse them but they were beasts and you had to thrash them. They'd shove anything behind them, just to get rid of it, and it'd be barking on its way, wallop, from A to B."

What makes the endless hours of restoration worthwhile, they agree, is to travel at last on the main line and to see the faces of astonished bystanders.

"Some folk think we're absolutely crackers, but when you see that reaction you know we aren't idiots at all," says Dan. "It's the entertainment industry really; we should be members of Equity."

The move to Darlington, they hope, will bring new volunteers, including men who worked on the Q6s and other steam engines before North Road sheds closed in 1966. "We need to spread the expertise base," says Arthur, though they're equally keen to persuade youngsters to get involved. "When we all fall over, we need someone to carry on this work," says Dan.

We sat talking in the Station at Northallerton - near enough appropriate - for two hours. Unlike the dirty North-East coaster, it flew.

Membership and other information about NELPG is available from Dan Fawcett on (01609) 771302 or Arthur Robinson on 079682 39356.

BLUE Peter, named after the 1939 Derby winner - the children's television programme came later - is numbered 60532 - which may ring a bell at Darlington's North Road railway museum where the telephone number is 460532. "We'll never need look it up in the directory again," says Arthur.

FROM Northallerton to Nevilles Cross, where another battle is looming. The first, it may be recalled, was between England and Scotland in 1346; this one involves the Duke of Wellington.

The Welly, as doubtless it is known to its friends, is a familiar pub alongside the old A1 a mile or so west of Durham city centre. It's well run, vastly popular and has a reputation throughout the North-East for good food. Bass - Bass, again - want to change everything.

Two years ago, the Big Brewer caused outrage in Durham after proposing to turn the Half Moon, a traditional pub in the city centre, into a student orientated "It's a Scream" bar. Finally they withdrew.

Now the company plans to spend up to £800,000 turning the Duke of Wellington into an Ember Inn theme pub, and for the 600 customers who've already signed a petition it's not a theme for a dream, but a nightmare.

"Absolutely disastrous," says Gerry Steinberg, the city's retiring MP and a Sunday night regular.

Instead of a cosy, multi-roomed pub, Bass wants to create one huge area served from a central bar and with the emphasis on drinks. The 50-year-old murals, depicting the ball before the Battle of Waterloo and a meeting between Wellington and Nelson, would also go.

"They're not going to fetch a fortune in Sotheby's but they're a much-loved feature of the place," says retired psychology professor Don Watson, one of the petition organisers.

Thelma Baker, 74, is so upset at the threat to her local for the past 40 years that she has been going door-to-door encouraging opposition.

"The thought of it is just horrendous," she says, drinking nothing stronger than coffee. "It's such a lovely place, a pub where people can talk and drink without loud music blasting out all the time. All they want it to become is another place for young people."

Don Watson, who lives near New Brancepeth, has, in 22 years, made many friends in the snug.

"It's one of the last real pubs in the area and there's a lovely little community in there. It's not just a drinking establishment, it has a life and soul to it. People find the news almost unbelievable - why on earth can't they leave well alone?

"Typically of these brewery initiatives, the market research doesn't involve asking any of the regulars for their views," he says.

Mr Steinberg compared the plans with a r efurbish ment at the nearby Cock o' the North, also Bass owned, which had "completely ruined" it - according to him.

No one at Bass was yesterday available for comment; in the dear old Duke of Wellington, they still hope they'll meet their Waterloo.

....and finally, Christine Collister - a folk singer said by The Times to have a voice personally delivered by God - appeared the other night at Newcastle Opera House.

Afterwards, she was asked by Rosie Taylor, a teacher at Walkergate primary school, if she'd join the bairns' weekly singalong the next day.

Christine, reports our queer as folk correspondent, found the weans of Walkergate even more receptive than the critic of The Times - "Why miss," said one of the little ones, "you're just like a real singer, aren't ye."