'All Britain shaken by an earthquake", screamed The Northern Echo's front page headline. The greatest for centuries. Alarm in the North-East. People rush from their beds.

The strongest earthquake in Britain's history happened at 1.26am on Sunday, June 7, 1931, 60 miles off the Yorkshire coast on the Dogger Bank. It lasted ten seconds and measured 6.1 on the Richter scale which makes the 3.5 earthquake on Boxing Day in Dumfries little more than a tremble in a teacup.

Journalists love little better than a fact panel to accompany stories like the Dumfries disturbance, and most fact panels noted that in the 1931 quake, a church steeple in Filey rotated which, if true, makes it a supernatural seismic shaking.

All the east coast felt the Dogger Bank quake, although the only casualty was a canary in Northampton which suffered a broken wing when its cage was flung to the floor. An old woman in Hull died of a heart attack and Dr Crippen's head fell off, but as he was a wax model in Madame Tussaud's, he was a curiosity rather than a casualty.

The most serious damage was sustained in Rose's Yard, Northallerton, and at Hermitage Lodge in Chester-le-Street where chimneys tumbled onto neighbouring properties.

Everywhere, people were shaken awake. In Durham, reported the Echo, people scantily attired rushed into the streets to relate their experiences, and in York there was a night clothes parade. In Scarborough, people feared a repeat of the 1914 bombardment by German battleships. People hurriedly left their houses, running into the streets in their night clothing, said the Echo. Many went onto the foreshore and sands fearing collapse of buildings. In their anxiety, they ran towards the battleships had they existed.

On Teesside, people feared a chemical explosion; in east Durham they dreaded a pit disaster; in Redcar they believed a ship had run aground; in Darlington, they thought a train had come crashing off the rails.

Everywhere, they feared they had an extremely noisy criminal in their house - in Richmond, Supt J Ventress, joked from his bath to his wife that he was in for a red hot catch of a burglar.

A Darlingtonian reported: "I was awakened by the shaking of the bed and the noise of the windows and doors rattling, and thinking at first that someone was hammering on the front door I dashed downstairs. When I got onto the landing I could hear the crockery rattling loudly."

In more up-market Barnard Castle, people were awoken by the rattling of trinkets on dressing-tables while a poetic resident of Middleton-in-Teesdale described how the furniture shifted as if it were too heavy for the building.

Animals had been aware for hours what was about to happen - rats in Trimdon had been unusually active since 10.30pm. In Wensleydale, the stillness before and after the tremors was remarkable except that pheasants screamed and cocks crowed after the last tremor.

And in Filey, the Wesleyan church steeple was so severely shaken that the pointy bit at the top - complete with weathervane - was joggled a few inches to one side. From the Echo's pictures, there appears to have been no rotation.

To some this was an epiphany. The Rev Dinsdale Young told the Echo: "I am a very firm believer in the second coming of the Lord. I think these earthquakes are an indication that the time is approaching."

Miss Christabel Pankhurst added: "It seems to be part of the great world conflict and disorder. I look upon it as a fulfillment of His prophecy. We are coming to the end of an age in history."

Most people sensibly just went back to bed. And although the steeple never rotated, the world has continued turning ever since.