Two-tone shoes are certainly not to everyone's taste, but there are those who consider them rather dapper

WE'RE back from the annual pilgrimage to Pembrokeshire, dawn to dusk blue skies throughout, and thus to the nothing-new-under-the-sun debate about the place of the apostrophe in "Land of her fathers".

It's inadvertently entered by the admirable Dame Tanni Grey-Thompson, Cardiff born but long in Redcar, who on BBC Wales tonight begins a series called Land of Our Mothers, about famous Welsh women in history.

The BBC omits the apostrophe altogether, which seems a bit of a Corporate cop-out.

The greater mystery, of course, is why Dame Tanni chooses to remain in mist-shrouded Redcar when Wales - or, indeed, almost anywhere - seems to enjoy so much more sunshine.

Has the North-East coast the worst weather in England?

HOMEWARD via Liverpool FC, where our friends at Coundon Conservative Club, protectively introduced as Condom Conservative Club by the unfortunate FA committee chairman, triumph 5-0 in the FA Carlsberg Sunday Cup final.

Anfield also offers the answer to a nautical mystery - why sailors drink the loyal toast sitting down - but kicks off another, about co-respondent shoes.

At the pre-match lunch, the great and the good-for-nothing together in attendance, the monarch's health is proposed by the Royal Navy representative on the FA Council.

The tradition of not rising to the occasion, he says, dates from the reign of Charles II when the king joined the crew of HMS Naseby for dinner. Having joined as one to toast His Majesty, they discovered - headroom being what it was on the average 17th century ship - rather more crowned heads than had been bargained for and were thereafter allowed the bottom bunk.

Though similarly seated, some of us remained distinctly uncomfortable, nonetheless.

THE co-respondent shoes were worn by the excellent Vince Johnson, Shildon lad and Cons Club sponsor. Most famously, however, they were sported by his namesake Brian Johnson, the lamented Test Match Specialist.

"My wife bought them in London, a black and white pair and a brown and white pair. I reckon they're pretty nifty," says Vince, who runs Barrier Surveillance.

Mrs Wallis Simpson is also said to have been co-respondingly fond of such footwear, as well she might have been, which may also explain a 1934 reference by AG MacDonell in How Like an Angel: "A pair of those singularly repulsive shoes of black and white which are called co-respondents - quite wrongly called, incidentally, for co-respondents at least get or give some favour and these shoes do neither."

The Oxford simply defines it as a "jocular term for two-tone shoes", though an on-line dictionary supposes co-respondent shoes to have been "those worn by philanderers".

It's with Johnsons' polish that Vince sidesteps the philandery. "Not me," he says. "I've never collected stamps in my life."

NOTES in recent columns on the late Denis Weatherley - singer, headmaster, good man - recalled that at Ryhope Grammar School, near Sunderland, a teaching colleague had been Clive Westlake, subsequently a celebrated song writer for the likes of Dusty Springfield.

Among their musical proteges was Tom Allen, to become Sir Thomas and Britain's leading baritone.

Terry Holden, now in Bishop Auckland but once a pupil at Ryhope, remembers Clive Westlake both as pianist for Shirley Bassey and one-off guitarist for Meatloaf on Top of the Pops.

What really sticks in his mind, though, is Clive's specially written Christmas pantomime song for young Tom Allen - How Will Santa Get My Hoola Down the Chimney?

Speaking of getting down, it was also Tom Allen and a fellow-prefect who in time-honoured fashion held Terry's head down the loo in retribution for some playground misdemeanour.

"I don't want to cast aspersions on a knight of the realm," says Terry. "What's more worrying about the incident is that his accomplice became a High Court judge."

JUST days after the At Your Service column had reported the Bishop of Jarrow's memorable farewell service in Durham Cathedral, the Rt Rev John Pritchard was "received" by the Queen at Buckingham Palace.

The court circular in The Times reported that Bishop John "did homage", that the Lord Chancellor administered the oath and that the Bishop of Guildford was present in his role as clerk to the closet.

Bishop John will himself be enthroned in Oxford Cathedral on June 8. None of this, of course, has any connection to the goings-on at Ryhope Grammar School mentioned earlier.

GOODNESS knows why, but we'd been talking about scurf, which you got before dandruff was brought out.

John Heslop in Durham remembers that in the days when lads washed their hair once a week with soap - "whether it needed it or not" - they also used Dr Page-Barker's Scurf and Dandruff Lotion.

"This had the overall effect of flattening the usually unruly mop and keeping the dandruff and/or scurf at bay, but not reducing it."

It must have worked, John supposes. The NHS Direct website offers plenty of dandruff but of scurf, there's not so much as a speck.

LUD'S day observed, we'd also recalled Lobby Lud, the pre-war newspaper promotional character who'd give ten bob - sometimes more - to those correctly identifying him.

For those not around in those days, says Bob Harbron - who was - that ten shilling note would have bought eight lots of fish and chips, now about £32, ten seats at the cinema (£45), three double seats in the back row (£27), 120 goes on a slot machine (£12) or 60 donkey rides (another £12).

What cost Lobby Lud £2.50 would now be £128. "No wonder," says Bob, wistfully, "that he was so popular in the 1930s".

IAN Reeve, the BBC's North-East industrial correspondent, recalls a Lud-like stunt pulled by former newsroom colleague Tony Baker on George Pope, the station photographer.

On holiday in a Spanish resort the week before the Pope's visit, Tony displayed hundreds of pictorial posters round the town. "I'm lucky George," they said. "Find me and win 500 pesetas."

After being stopped about 30 times on his first day, says Ian, George rarely left his hotel room for the remainder.

COINCIDENTALLY, we'd spent the Welsh week near Ludchurch, though the name is thought to come from the Welsh for "grey" and the church itself is dedicated to St Elidyr. The name puzzles them. Elidyr may be apocryphal; he may even be a spelling mistake.

There's another St Elidyr's down the road in Amroth, where David Rees - an 18th century philanthropist - is buried. The stone declares him to be "formally of this parish".

Rees had bequeathed £15 annually, a lot of money, so that village children might learn to read and write. The financial help continued until 1998, since which time primary school leavers have been given a dictionary instead.

Whether this is in memory of David Rees or of his monumental mason is unfortunately not explained.

THE Narberth and Whitland Observer proving sadly lacking in news from the North-East of England, we turned for holiday reading to the nationals - several carrying profiles of Durham University chancellor Bill Bryson, about to become president of the Campaign to Protect Rural England and by every account as pleasant as he seems.

Bill's latest crusade is against litter, and thus a pity that the CPRE doesn't extend to Wales, because the lanes around Narberth and Whitland are choked with the stuff.

Sadly, the chancellor seems to have gone soft on his original remedy for litter louts, proposed when first the column mentioned the idea last December. "Shoot to kill," he said.

Good to be back, anyway, even if the weather has taken a turn for the North-Easterly. More from our own co-respondent next week.

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