SIDINGS of comfort and joy, John Briggs comes across a 100-year-old postcard on ebay which confirms a long held belief: the railway marshalling yard at Shildon really was Britain's biggest.

We were taught as much at Timothy Hackworth juniors, but we were also taught - or at least allowed to believe - that babies were found beneath gooseberry bushes.

The postcard, taken from about where the National Railway Museum now stands, sets both tracks and record straight.

We'd also reported a couple of columns back that Titley and Marr, the upmarket Chelsea textile designers, had produced a material called Shildon - probably green and pleasant - and that a sample was, in turn, for sale on ebay.

A bit on the siding, the postcard went for £10.51. Titley and Marr's finest failed to attract a bid.

BOB Elliott rings from Darlington to ask if we watch Richard and Judy. "Richard and Judy who?" probably wasn't the answer he sought.

It's a daytime television programme, apparently, in which one of the attractions is a sort of televisual charades between R&J on the one hand and a caller on the other.

Margaret from Crook had just rung. It involved someone being a spiral staircase. However roundabout the route, she won £5,000.

Crook also impressed Richard. How did Margaret's home town get its name, he wondered; had it been a den of thieves, or something? Margaret didn't know, neither did Bob, but the explanation is rather less villainous.

Crook is from the old Norse "krokr", meaning a bend in a river - either the nearby Wear, or Crook Beck which saunters through the town. It's as above board as that; honest.

LAST week's piece on the Fat Ladies' Flier - the gloriously circuitous No. 88 bus route between Barnard Castle and Bishop Auckland - prompted several readers to jump aboard.

Billy Neilson, agent to Bishop Auckland MP Helen Goodman, points out that if we'd missed the 10.10am from Barney, the next Bishop bus was 97 minutes away.

That's the service 8, says Billy - seasoned bus traveller, like all the best - and heads through Staindrop, Cockfield and West Auckland, taking 48 minutes, nine minutes fewer than the Flyer.

The service 8, he adds, is officially dubbed an express.

DEREK Toon lives on the route of the 88 - Hamsterley way, Toon and country. He's never seen it carry a passenger.

"We call it the Phantom Bus and were convinced it was the modern equivalent of the ferry across the Styx, taking lost souls to Hades. Is the driver called Charon?"

Classicists will recognise the Styx, literally the river of hate, and not to be confused with sticks and stones, which only break bones. This one separates the world of the living from that of the dead.

It was crossed by a sad old ferryman called Charon and guarded by Cerberus, who let all in but none out.

Charon of the underworld has, in turn, no connection with any other Sharon. On Wednesdays at least, Sharon is always on top.

BARRY Wood in Edmondsley, north of Durham, proposes a novel way - "an exercise in footility" - both of passing the journey and of avoiding a deep vein thrombosis.

"Perhaps passengers will recognise fellow Echo readers by it," he says. "It could become a sort of journalistic Masonic sign, especially if accompanied by chanting the word 'Amos'."

The challenge, at any rate is to move the right foot off the floor and make clockwise circles with it.

While so doing, describe the figure six in the air with the right hand. No matter how hard you try, the foot will change direction.

No one else aboard, we tried it on Monday on the No 12 to Cockfield. It's unavoidable. Whatever the brain wants to say, that foot has a mind of its own.

AFTER reading The Guardian, with some difficulty, on the Fat Ladies Flier, we noted in last week's column a 19 word letter from Mr Percival Turnbull in Barnard Castle about President Bush and the voice of God.

The reference particularly pleased John Heslop in Durham, whose daughter Katy works in The Guardian's research department. Here's another.

Exactly a week later, travelling much more smoothly on GNER's smart new Mallard fleet to Edinburgh while an accordionist played Chase Me Charlie in the background, we came across another of Mr Turnbull's Guardian letters - and of exactly the same length.

"Captain Cook the greatest Yorkshireman? Certainly; he spent his life getting as far away from the place as possible."

We don't know the score on the man of 19 words, but as sure as shell ducks, he's on the right side of the Tees.

ARRIVA, which has taken some stick hereabouts after another fare rise - and an unscheduled late night bus wash - has suggested an economy measure.

The eight mile journey from Scotch Corner to work now costs £2.80 - you can fly to Belfast for less - making a weekly travel bill of almost £30, and no company car for non-drivers.

Arriva commercial director Liz Esnouf suggests a £19 weekly saver, transferable to family and friends, offering unlimited Arriva bus travel between Berwick and Scarborough. Just the ticket? Clearly there's something to be said for it.

...and finally, something a bit different. Chris Eddowes returns from holiday in Canada clutching a copy of the Globe and Mail. "Most hotels give you a free copy," says Chris, from Hartlepool.

What made her think of England, and of Gadfly, was a competition set by columnist Warren Clements in which readers were invited to combine all or part of a well known place name with the name of a well known person, real or fictitious.

The marriage of convenience would then become a fictitious place name, which readers were then invited to describe. Examples?

Andovercash: a well known tourist trap. Ripvancouver: a sleepy sea port. Sydneycarton: a city that has far, far better things to do than it has ever done. Moroccochanel: land of exotic spice and fragrance. Port-au-Prince-Charles: a city that badly needs a promotion.

Anyone fancy a go? Bonus points for any - Darlinghart, the most romantic village on earth - with a North-East flavour. Others when the column returns in a fortnight.

Published: 19/10/2005