THE man up the ladder in this fantastic picture of Hurworth from the equally fantastic book, The Road to Rockliffe, is Alfred Rutherford.

Alfred was the grandfather of Sue Anderson, who has read the book and spotted him going about his business as a painter and decorator.

Alfred was born in Neasham in 1884 and when he married in 1910 he was living at 11, East Terrace in Hurworth - now regarded as part of Strait Lane. In Victorian times, East Terrace was also known as Shiney Terrace - I guess because of the slate tiles on the roof which due to various angles, even today, reflect the sun when wet more than other terraces. In Edwardian times, it was known as Diana Terrace, but I cannot even guess why.

Alfred, who died in 1958, had his workshop on land that is now part of the Otter and Fish pub car park.

This gives me an excuse to brush off this fascinating picture of the east end of Hurworth.

Left: the Primitive Methodist Chapel, where the anti-alcohol ranters had their base. It was built in 1835, finished as a place of worship in the 1920s and was demolished in 1965 when council flats were built on its site. This is the only picture I have ever seen of it.

Low buildings: these were one of Hurworth's smithys (there was another where the garage used to be opposite the church). Dick Sanderson, a county councillor, retired in the 1950s and was one of the last of the smithys. He has a road named after him in the village. The smithy was also cleared in 1965 along, presumably, with Alfred's workshop.

Otter and Fish: the smithy had a hatch which opened into the bar of the pub whenever the blacksmith required refreshment. I haven't been able to find any dates for the pub - it has always been there.

Right: a couple of cottages which belonged to a hind, or smallholder, who came from the Crisp family whose market gardens and orchards stood behind the properties. It is said that about 100 years ago, Mr Crisp took his cart around the Tees villages and into the Brankin Moor area of Darlington selling his fruit and vegetables. At the end of a hard day's trading, Mr Crisp needed to slake his thirst. This he did very liberally, rendering himself unable to find his way home. Fortunately, his horse had grown wise to his behaviour - and the routes home - and so would take its master back to his bed.