IT may not quite be as big as Jack's beanstalk, but my First World War sunflower is doing its level best to reach for the skies.

Just to recap, since the start of May, I've been growing a sunflower in memory of Private John Thomas Matthews, one of 1,245 men from Stockton-on-Tees who died in the Great War.

It's part of a brilliant community project organised by Stockton Borough Council, with the help of musician Mike McGrother, to grow 1,245 sunflowers to keep the memory of those soldiers alive. They will all be brought together on August 4 to form a memory garden in Stockton parish gardens.

Part of the idea is that the community growers – including me – find out more of soldiers they have been allocated. So far, I've discovered that Private Matthews is buried in Durham Road cemetery in Stockton.

He was in the 5th battalion of the Durham Light Infantry and married Florence M. Lewis in 1910. They had three children – William, born in 1912, Catherine, born in 1913, and Alfred, born in 1915. Private Matthews died from his wounds, aged 31, on May 5, 1919.

Thanks to Darlington reader John Husband, who very kindly carried out some research unprompted, I have now discovered a little bit more.

John Thomas Matthews was born in 1888, the son of David Matthews, who married Alice Fairbairn in 1888. It appears that John's daughter Catherine married Francis Barnett at St Thomas's Church in Stockton in 1930. John's wife Florence was remarried in 1920 to John Albert Whiting and they had a daughter, Myra, who was born in Stockton a year later.

Myra married Kenneth C. Taylor in 1941 at Barton, a district spanning the boundaries of Greater Manchester and Lancaster. They had two children, Janice and Colin.

Florence died in 1954, aged 63, and her husband died ten years later, aged 72.

Just like my sunflower, information on the life and times of John Thomas Matthews continues to grow. Fingers crossed, a living descendant can be traced by the time the flower blossoms.

WHEN the pupils of New Marske Primary School wrote to me a little while back, inviting me in to read them one of my children's books, they promised: "We'll give you tea and biscuits if you come."

I agreed on condition that the biscuits were custard creams – and I didn't quite realise what I was letting myself in for.

I drove to New Marske last week to be confronted by lots of smiling faces – and a giant custard cream!

I've done lots of school visits in my time but New Marske Primary takes the biscuit.

THERE are some people who are always worth chatting to, and Robin Blair – the friendly face of Darlington's Victorian Market – is one of them.

I popped across to see Robin this lunchtime and he told me an interesting little anecdote which underlines the value of tourism.

A woman had asked him for directions to Darlington's tourist information centre and Robin explained that there wasn't one – it had closed as a victim of the public sector spending squeeze.

He went on to volunteer his own local knowledge and the woman, who turned out to be from New Zealand, unfolded her map on the bonnet of Robin's fruit and veg van so he could point out the local attractions.

She was particularly interested in railway history so she found out about the Head of Steam Museum and Locomotion at Shildon.

The result was that she decided to stay in the area for an extra day. Food for thought?

IT was a great pleasure to speak to the Neville Parade Wives Club in Newton Aycliffe.

The club was formed back in 1958 when the minister at Neville Parade Methodist Church, the Reverend Roy Gunston, decided there was a need for a group to support young women.

It was especially nice to meet one of the founder members, the remarkable Jessie Musgrave, who is still going strong in the group to this day.

She even remembers a club outing in the 1960s to The Northern Echo offices to see the presses rolling. Time flies.

FINALLY, Friday was a very proud day for me and my family. My mum, my wife, my eldest son and my daughter were able to join me inside Buckingham Palace when I received the MBE. Sadly, my other two sons couldn't be there, and I imagine my dad was looking down from the working men's club up in the clouds. I can never thank them all enough for their love, support and patience. That's all.