When Colin the cat went missing for 13 days, the whole community of Sowerby united in an effort to find him.

"What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing?"

- Luke 15: 4-5

NOT the sort of story for which you would normally hold the front page - or, indeed, include in a restaurant review - the Eating Owt column on August 28 reported a missing cat in Sowerby, near Thirsk.

The posters said that he was "timid" but answered to the name of Colin. A couple of years previously, in Wingate, we'd come across a poster for a lost cat that answered to Rooney - though whether Mickey or Wayne was never satisfactorily explained.

Without wishing to hurt anyone's felines, we wondered if moggies really could recognise their name.

Like something the cat brought in, it proved not just to be a good talking point - there are those who swear that their cats don't just talk but could read the Ten O'Clock Mews if called upon - but a pretty good story, too.

Lost and found, the case of Colin has united the village, driven Shann Kettlewell - his anxious owner - to daily commuting between North Yorkshire and her job in Hampshire and even provided the theme for the Rev Nicki Carnall's "lost sheep" sermon last Sunday.

"You take from the story what you want, but people have been praying for that cat," says Shann. It was thus rather appropriate that, after 13 days absence without leave, she found him, if not quite in the wilderness, then in the vicarage garden.

"He resembled a backpacker in need of a good wash," says Shann. "We were going round shouting for him. I'm sure that cats recognise their name."

Colin was adopted, has a bit of a history, had seen a therapist (honest) about his depression. It was the first time, however, that he'd done a runner.

Four hundred posters were produced, villagers turned out in their dozens, Shann returned every night from the south to augment the search parties. If not quite ninety-and-nine, they have another cat and a dog - whose dinner Colin usually prefers - and who were pretty upset themselves.

Contrary to what the cat clearly supposed, he has discovered - says Shann - that the streets of Sowerby aren't really paved with double cream, fat rodents and hot totty lady cats.

"The response from the village has been phenomenal. In terms of community spirit it's been great, we've had dozens of calls. It's been amazing, overwhelming, a lot of people are overjoyed."

Nicki Carnall, Vicar of Sowerby and nearby Sessay, reports that, coincidentally, the story of the lost sheep was the set reading for last Sunday. The parable, or perhaps just the parallel, was inescapable.

"I'd been on holiday and didn't know anything about it until I found a flyer through the door when we returned. It struck me how desperate they were and the lengths to which they were going.

"There was a massive response from the village and there was much joy. You know what they say about there being more rejoicing over the one sheep that was lost."

Shann, who has given flowers and a donation to the church, draws conclusions of her own. "Colin has now decided that his place in life is where he knows best - home. It's possibly a lesson for us all."

Entirely coincidentally, John Briggs in Darlington tells the story about the Yorkshire lad who takes his sick cat to the vet.

"Is it a tom?" asks the vet.

"Nay, lad," says the owner, "it's in the basket, 'ere."

ON Saturday to Newcastle, where the Central Station is literally bedecked with huge hanging banners promoting Northern Rock and the sports teams - United, Eagles, Falcons - which so handsomely it has supported.

The caption's simple. "Play time is over," say the banners and for Adam Applegarth, the Rock's cricket loving but beleaguered chief executive, it could hardly be more appropriate.

A crumb of comfort, however - and also with a railway connection - comes on the letters page of Monday's Daily Telegraph from Darlington lad Hugh Little, now in Ilkley.

Hugh's a steam railway enthusiast, travels frequently on the Ravenglass and Eskdale Railway - otherwise the Ratty - in West Cumbria and has many times been hauled by a narrow gauge engine called Northern Rock, in service there since 1976.

Though the Telegraph's caption showed the loco on a turntable and talked of turning through 180 degrees, Hugh is far more charitable. "It has given my family so much pleasure," he says, "that I, at least, will remain loyal to the sponsor."

Returning after a month in France and Spain, Paddy Burton in Sunniside, above Crook, got as far as Tebay - also in Cumbria - when hunger drove him into a motorway service station. There he was intrigued to read a consumer caveat on a sachet of butter: "Butter....warning: contains milk."

Enjoying a self-confessed "Meldrew moment", Ian Forsyth in Durham writes about a glossy publication called "A-Z guide of services", just received from the City Council.

"How many levels in the hierarchy do you suppose had to approve it before it went to print?" he asks. "Doesn't any of them have a smattering of English?"

Also in Durham, John Heslop rang electricity supplier npower to be greeted with a recorded message about experiencing high call volumes "as a result of essential improvements to our computer systems".

Were the essential improvements designed to enhance the service to customers, he wonders, or to take pressure off employees by increasing the time it takes to get through on the telephone?

Claiming no credit, Darlington councillor Brian Jones - Sadberge and Middleton St George - forwards one of those ingenious internet anagram lists.

The latest include dormitory (dirty room), astronomer (moon starer), eleven plus two (twelve plus one), slot machines (cash lost in me) and - perhaps cleverest of all - an anagram for mother-in-law.

Woman Hitler.

...and finally, Bob Harbron in Norton-on-Tees notes that councils are now issuing longer distance bus passes and is reminded of the story of the Durham miner who has a little win on the pools and decides on a holiday in the Far East.

At Darlington station he asks for a return to Hong Kong. "Sorry," says the clerk, "you'll have to go to London and book again."

At Kings Cross, he's told to catch the Underground to Heathrow and try again. At the airport he's asked if he wants to fly via Rome, Amsterdam or Dubai before finally getting his ticket.

The old lad has a great holiday but, not much looking forward to all the palaver on the return trip, calls over a Hong Kong rickshaw and asks to be taken to Trimdon.

"Certainly," says the rickshaw attendant, "would that be Grange, Colliery or Station?