Darlington's famous railway

I've just returned from Darlington, where I spent a few days with my aunt Sarah. Sarah used to live in Newcastle; a place that I always enjoyed visiting as there's so much to see and do. But Darlington?

Then I remembered that Darlington has one great claim to fame – the Stockton & Darlington Railway which, as you may know, was the first passenger-carrying steam railway in the world.  It's said that 40,000 people turned out to witness the inaugural run on September 27th 1825.

John Dobbins' painting of the great day records Locomotion hauling its train over Darlington's Skerne Bridge, which is now the oldest operational railway bridge in the world. Seeking it out would, I told myself, make an interesting adventure.

My 2 mile walk from Aunt Sarah's home took me beneath this oddity, known as Skinny Bridge. It certainly tests ones ability to steer a straight line but, in historical terms, is a mere whipper snapper compared to the bridge I had set out to find.

And here it is, looking in fine fettle for its age, and complete with a 21st century successor to Locomotion. Not so long ago the scene was very different, with weeds and overgrowth reaching almost as high as the bridge, but last year the place received a makeover with the opening of a new cycle way.

A few minutes walk from Skerne Bridge is North Road Station, the home of the Head of Steam railway museum. I was going to give it a miss as rows of lifeless railway engines don't thrill me greatly, but with time to spare I changed my mind and paid the £3.75 entrance fee.  And am I glad that I did! For there stood Locomotion herself – the engine that hauled that first passenger train.

Be warned, though, that a cup of tea at this museum costs almost as much as the entrance fee, and I even had to search out the fridge to add my own milk... but I'm not one to complain. Instead, cup in hand, I went in search of a memento of my visit. A commemorative mug, perhaps, for another cup of tea? A colourful guide book? 

 

Then I found this old platform ticket machine. Eagerly I inserted a 10p coin, pulled the big brass handle, and out popped my prize.

 . 

Still singing

Many a month has passed since last I mentioned ukuleles. Has Angie exchanged her uke for knitting needles or a paint pallet? Perish the thought!  The 'problem' is simply that the couple with the fine camera have moved on to pastures new, so there haven't been any photos of little me worth publishing. Also, Janice hasn't organised any Open Mic events recently, so a grateful world has been spared my solo performances.

All that changed last Sunday afternoon with an Open Mic & Mass Jam at the Riverside Hotel in Monmouth... and oh what fun we had! And there sat Alastair and Janice with their camera.

I'm getting a reputation for singing songs that are not entirely serious. This time I chose I am my own grandma – my adaptation of a song about a family with a crazy mixed-up genealogy.

Many, many years ago when I was twenty three

I was married to a widower who was handsome as could be.

This widower had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red;

my father fell in love with her and soon they too were wed.

This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life;

my daughter was my mother, for she was my father's wife.... 

and from there the chaos developed.

A big 'thank you' to Alan snr and Alan jnr for organising and leading a wonderful event — their first (I think) but hopefully not their last.

Chicken Breasts cooked in Puff Pastry

Many years before the heritage industry 'took off' there existed at Botallack, near St Just in West Cornwall, The Count House – a Folk Club of treasured memory where the likes of John the Fish and Brenda Wootton regularly enthralled the crowds.  Brenda was only 65 when she died, but I'm proud to say whenever I sing Lamorna (one of my favourites) I can still sense her lovely high voice singing along with me.

Some time after the folk club closed The Count House became a restaurant, run by Ian and Ann Long and I began my long association with the place. Ann's cooking was superb and she deservedly went on to become a Master Chef. One of her recipes became great favourites of ours – Chicken Breasts spread with Crabmeat, cooked in Puff Pastry and served with a smooth Curry Sauce.

Now the restaurant too has passed into memory and the building has been 'restored' by the National Trust to something like its appearance in the days of copper and tin mining.  But, as anyone invited to dine with us will know, Ann's recipes live on, thanks to her book Ann Long's Dinner Party. I'm proud to say that I have a signed copy.

My own version of Chicken Breasts cooked in Puff Pastry is simpler than Ann's and slightly less calorific but the credit for it is all hers. So (with quantities for two people) here we go...

Curry sauce:
knob of butter
¼ onion, chopped
½ teaspoon of Easy Garlic
teaspoon of curry powder
tablespoon of mango chutney
1 apple, chopped
1 banana, sliced
¼ pint chicken stock

Stick all the ingredients in a pan and boil until the onions soften, liquidise then return to the cleaned saucepan to keep warm. If it's a bit thick, just add a little water.

Chicken and puff pastry:
You'll need one skinned chicken breast, 60g of puff pastry and ½ tin (60g) of crabmeat per person. I guess many folk would buy puff pastry but we much prefer to make our own 'rough puff'. Recipes are quite easy to find; basically all you need is pastry, knobs of butter, a fridge, a rolling pin and a plastic bag.

Roll the puff pastry as thin as you can, then divide it into individual portions. Chop each chicken breast in half then build a chicken/crabmeat/chicken mountain in the middle of the pastry. Any remaining crabmeat can be popped on top or packed around the sides. You may spot that on this occasion I used tuna – not quite as tasty but still pretty good. Season the lot with a little black pepper.

Fold up the puff pastry and crimp it to make a little pastry parcel. Place the two parcels in a baking dish, then brush them with egg yoke.

Cook at 220°C for about 20 minutes, until golden brown.

Voila!