THOSE with an O Level in Religious Education (or Religious Knowledge, or Scripture or whatever these doubtful days it has become) may be familiar with the parable of the centurion's daughter.

So great was the Roman's belief that he urged Jesus not even to pay a house call, simply to say the word and his little girl - an early victim of legionnaire's disease, perhaps - would be turning cartwheels by the time he got home.

This column's relationship with Miss Sheena Lawson in Guisborough is much the same, and also conducted from a distance. Though we have never met - not for lack of newspaperman's promises - her recommendations over the years have been so dependable that it is tempting simply to insert "Sheena says so" in six inch capitals, and to take the rest of the week off.

Her latest tip, and the lady may be a doctor so unerringly is her finger on the pulse, was for Woody's, which opened last back end in Northallerton.

It's in Zetland Street, between the High Street and HM Young Offenders' Institution, where wall rebuilding - there is an inherent problem with rebuilding prison walls with the residents still in situ - has brought a slightly chaotic one-way system to the town centre.

Memory also suggests a little local difference over the proposed colour, an ochre yellow, though the objections were not from those unfortunately incarcerated within but from the aesthetically affronted without.

It was in Northallerton jail, incidentally, that one of the two most profound things we ever heard was uttered - an elderly recidivist who, asked what he'd most miss about Christmas inside, reckoned it would be the chance to walk 100 yards in a straight line.

The other profundity concerned the Savoy chef and the pies and peas, but readers know that one already.

Woody's is owned by Peter Wood, who for 11 years was a chef at the nearby Solberge Hall Hotel, and by his wife Angela. The Stokesley Stockbroker, also in attendance, had surmised that the name might owe something to their affection for Woody Herman, or even Woody Woodpecker.

The obvious answer was the right one.

We lunched, two courses for £7.50 including coffee, three for £9.50. There's a "light lunch" menu, too, centred chiefly around "ciabattas and rustic rolls" with fillings like bacon, tomato and brie; smoked slamon, prawns and cream cheese and roasted Mediterranean vegetables with Mozzarella cheese.

The other diners were exclusively female. In Northallerton, as elsewhere, it may be a case of men must work and women must keep company.

The room's oblong, no crannies, a large mirror at one end which may be fashionable but always suggests that it might once have been a barber's. In its immediately previous incarnation it was a pizza place.

The stockbroker began with button mushrooms with salami and sweet peppers in a garlic and herb butter, we with a herby, creamy mushroom soup which, like everything else, was attractively presented.

The conversation turned inexplicably to Bath Olivers. Why Bath, and who was Oliver?

Main courses included tortellini, poached salmon with a prawn and mushroom sauce, chicken breast with a cheese and leek sauce and a steak and vegetable pie. In truth, we would have preferred rabbit pie, partly because of a lifelong fondness for it and partly because there is a temptation just now to eat every rabbit in the land, though that is a matter which must be pursued down different burrows entirely.

The steak and veg was succulent, flaky-topped and came with an aromatic gravy and well-cooked vegetables. The stockbroker, who had the chicken breast, was particularly taken with the sauce.

"Very acceptable," he said, a City term meaning splendid. As well as Bath Olivers, he also wondered if we'd eaten Carlisle Thins.

From eight puddings he finished with chocolate amaretti torte, which he enjoyed. Opposite, however, the creme brulee was a serious disappointment. At best it resembled rice pudding with a spun sugar topping, at worst something given to fractious babies when teething.

Sheena hadn't had a pudding, which probably explains it. One day we really will buy her lunch, even if miracles do take a little longer. For the moment, she was right again.

* Woody's, Zetland Street, Northallerton, (01609) 774444. Three course lunch £9.50, set dinner £15.25. Imaginative looking carte also. Open Monday-Saturday lunch and dinner, and Sunday lunch. No problem for the disabled.

OUR recent musings on the Garricks Head - name of several North-East pubs, including one in North Shields - concluded that it must salute Edward Garrick, the 18th Century actor/director.

Belatedly, however, Ray Applegarth from Castletown, Sunderland, offers an alternative from Webster's Dictionary: "Leerfish... a leading carangid game fish (hypacanthus amia.) of the west coast of Africa which is bluish grey, vigorous and often six feet in length. Called also a garrick."

Perhaps a garrick had mysteriously washed up in North Shields? A hypacanthus Amos, adds Ray a little unkindly, would be a queer fish, indeed.

THE Ackhorne in York, a good pub in a city still rich in them, was last Thursday night crowned the local CAMRA pub of the year. Two days earlier it was pretty congenial, too.

Known until a few years ago as the Acorn - "one of those weird, touristy things," said the barman, explaining the change - it also fostered a Rugby League team before suffering from olde worlde affectation.

It's up St Martin's Lane, off Micklegate, the 12th Century St Martin's church perhaps alone in Britain in making a feature of its fire buckets, or black jacks as in more flammable days they were known.

The cheerful pub's triumph is yet more commendable because for several years CAMRA refused even to list it in the Good Beer Guide because - a capital offence, if ever - they sold keg cider through a fake handpump.

Now it's a real ale haven, over 500 guest beers since Mel and Jack Merry, appropriately named, took over in the summer of 1999. Black Sheep from Masham and Rooster, Harrogate ale, are the regulars.

Food's served lunchtimes and from Tuesday to Friday between 5.30-7.30pm. Caught between times, we had a pint of Titanic from Stoke-on-Trent - the unfortunate Captain Smith was a Potteries lad, apparently - and another of the straw-coloured Rooster Yankee.

It was a pleasant diversion. From little ackhornes, ye olde oake trees grow.

TWO beer festivals coming up directly, starting tomorrow evening - until Saturday - with Wear Valley CAMRA's bash in Bishop Auckland Town Hall.

"Folk and love songs" tomorrow (it being February 14), more music on Thursday and Friday evening, farmers; market and craft fair from 11am-4pm on Saturday. CAMRA members free, others £1. Details on (01388) 602610.

Like the Wear Valley wassail, Cleveland CAMRA's festival at Stockton Arc Centre in Dovecote Street (February 22-24, 11am-11pm) will concentrate on "craft" beers from North-East independent brewers.

Food at both, German sausage stall and more live music at Stockton. Details on that one from Denise Powell, (01642) 654158.

...and finally, the bairns wondered if we knew what's white, furry and smells of peppermint.

A Polo bear.

www.thisisthenortheast.co.uk/leisure/eatingowt.html