This picture of a traditional terraced row in Horden Co.Durham (which I took on a Saturday afternoon a few weeks ago) captures a tiny glimpse of why I love Northern ex-colliery towns and villages. In these "properties" there is almost nothing for the fatuous Estate Agent to spin his dishonest blather about. No gardens, no decking, no conservatories, no block paved driveways for multiple cars, no proximity to retail parks, no"investment" properties at all. Silence reigns, quiet living goes on, apart from the odd flutter of a pigeon wing or the bark of a mongrel dog.

Two church notice boards. By their rather solemn nature, these don't change very much. Take a look at the Blackhall Co.Durham sign for some delightfully weathered expert enamel work, and feast your eyes on the central panel with its wrinkled paper poster (hopefully executed by a semi-retired ticket writer, still flexing his sable brushes for old-times sake.)

The St.Teresa's Catholic Church board is from Cleveleys, Lancashire. I have to excuse the insensitive service-time alterations made using self adhesive numbers probably bought from a hardware store - these were probably applied by a well-meaning and charitable parishioner.

I have attended Mass many times at this church over the years, while visiting my seaside sister, Susan. It is a giant red-brick barn of a building probably built in the 40's or 50's, that time of very large and culturally loyal congregations. The interior is airy, contains some nice pastel painted plaster statues, is well maintained, polished and has a likeable old priest with a strong Preston accent who likes to mention Coronation Street in his homilies.

Nose-picking is an unhygienic activity which should be discouraged before it becomes habitual in adulthood. If there were more ladies like the one in this Disappearing Phrase then this vulgar habit might now be less prevalent.

The Jesus Freak of Willington? While I was out hunting for hand painted signs this doorway in Willington Co.Durham caught my eye. The curling "Smile, Jesus Loves You" sticker was of a definite vintage and the firmly drawn blind made it enticingly hard to tell whether the property was abandoned or occupied. Was this terraced house once a hotbed of feverish evangelical activity or did it still contain a resident ageing Jesus Freak still wearing his/her sandals with wan memories of happy-clappy witnessing and non-denominational gatherings?

A comic strip in Latin. This is one of the Bagnall's Dailies published last year. Although the text is an Advent season prayer, the intent definitely wasn't religious. This was most certainly a formal exercise. I wanted to see if four totally un-related images could still work as a comics sequence if they were linked solely by a continuous set of words.

I'll stop explaining all this before I begin to sound too much like Scott McCloud....

It's the Third Sunday of Easter and here is the latest liturgical news from Rome. According to Pope Benedict's recent statement (Sacramentum Caritatis 2007) he urges that "the better known prayers of the Church's tradition should be recited in Latin and, if possible, selections of Gregorian Chant should be sung." I'm not a fierce member of the Back To Latin brigade (see above car-sticker) but it looks like some of us now have a bit of "dead" language swotting-up to do.

Dominus Vobiscum...

Faded signs update! Here are two vintage hand-painted beauties from an enjoyable drive last Saturday morning. The first is sadly only half a sign from an abandoned premises in Willington, Co.Durham. I like the light blue drop-shadow on the "M.A" and the rather elegant lower-case enamel work on the word "newsagent".

Farther down the road in the super-quiet market town of Crook I was entranced by the Ironmongers shop in the main street. This is a highly distinguished Victorian shopfront anyway, just look at that burgundy iron framework on the second storey. But here's a real Northern Archaological discovery: the current lower fascia has been removed to reveal the duck-egg blue original "Arthur Lax, Established 1840, Ironmonger". I had to record this one before it's covered up once again!

Statistics say that people are now much more likely to change employers or even their profession during their working lives. Try telling that to Nora in this Disappearing Phrase I drew last year.

Venerable Liverpool Beatnik Bob Parker contacted Bagnall's Retreat to make a comment on the recent "Northern Archaology" posts:

"...love all those images from down-at-heel post-industrial towns and villages. A few years ago I took some pics of city centre dereliction thinking I'd best do it before it got replaced by shiny new flat-pack buildings. Wonder why it is you, me (and everyone else I know) finds this forlorn abandonment much more aesthetically pleasing than the concrete, steel and glass so beloved of the redeveloper? Maybe it's an age thing..."

Thanks a lot, Bob, especially for coining the eloquent phrase "forlorn abandonment". Here are some more photos I took which hopefully illustrate that phrase. First is a long deserted shop in Wingate (see how dusty the venetian blinds look.) Second is a boarded up school in Easington Colliery (the manual instruction classroom entrance) and third is a row of lovely dilapidated sheds/garages in Fencehouses. All from (as yet) undeveloped corners of County Durham.

12th day of the month already and still no sign of any April showers. Was I wasting my time drawing the above strip? Thanks to global warming it looks like you're all going to get more time to play out on your bikes....

Happy Easter everyone! I hope none of you get spots from all those chocolate eggs you've been saving up for today....

Today is Holy Saturday. When darkness falls this evening the great Easter Vigil begins. Outside the church a fire is lit and blessed. The fire symbolises the radiance of the Risen Christ who dispels the darkness of death and sin.

"Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in Glory!

The Risen Saviour shines upon you,

Let this place resound with joy,

echoing the mighty song of all God's People!"

Photo is from the Cistercian Abbey of Genesee, USA.

During today's Good Friday services the cross is venerated by kissing the feet of a crucifix. Here are some of the words to a hymn traditionally sung in the Catholic liturgy while this takes place:

"He endured the nails,the spitting,
Vinegar, and spear, and reed;
From that holy Body broken
Blood and water forth proceed;
Earth, and stars, and sky, and ocean
By that flood from stain are freed.

Sweetest wood and sweetest nails,
Sweetest weight is hung on thee.

Thou alone wast counted worthy
This world's ransom to uphold;
For a ship-wreck'd race preparing
Harbour, like the Ark of old;
With the sacred Blood anointed
From the smitten Lamb that rolled.

Sweetest wood and sweetest nails,
Sweetest weight is hung on thee."

On a lighter note, I found three Good Friday superstitions from British days of old:

Eggs laid on Good Friday will never go bad.

Sailors took hot cross buns with them on Good Friday to prevent shipwreck.

Having a haircut on Good Friday will prevent toothaches for the rest of the year.

More from Wingate. This former colliery/pit village turned out to offer much more than a couple of fine vintage and faded signs. Never have I experienced such a magically desolate and abandoned atmosphere. The only sounds were cars swishing through on their way to more important places. On a Saturday afternoon its library, post office, barber shop and coach-travel agent were closed. Many former small-businesses looked long untenable. A dusty premises called John's Cafe gathered damp as its venetian blinds slid down discoloured window panes. Uphill, a large 1930's Co-Op building was For Sale, but who would be interested in purchasing such a multi-roomed monolith in this ghostly Northern backwater? Other commercial properties showed signs of vandalism, as did a formerly rather grand looking red-brick Police Station. All its windows were smashed...

I hear Wingate suffers more than a fair share of social problems. Wingate Grange Colliery closed down as early as 1962. Teenage pregnancies and drug problems abound. Yet, powerless to help, all my comments lie firmly in the aesthetic realm. As I fall asleep I'm unable to stop vivid memories of this place resonating around my brain!

Faded signs. Vintage hand-painted signage is becoming more scarce as the temporary turn-over of shop ownership increases. Shopkeepers have little option when all that seems to be available are ugly computer-cut vinyl fascias. Sometimes when a business has gone bust or is being refurbished an old enamel painted wood fascia will be revealed for a short time, like an archaological layer at a dig. The experience is almost like spotting a ghost. Perhaps you will only be lucky to catch a quick glimpse before the faded sign is covered up once more or even demolished.

Last Saturday I visited former colliery village Wingate (Co.Durham) to photograph this lovely example. As you'll see, the lower half of the empty shop is recent but the top fascia has been torn off to reveal an ancient looking three part sign for "Doggart's". This company once thrived in County Durham and I'm told a Doggart's Department Store stood prominently in Durham City Marketplace until the early 70s. This Wingate store must surely go back to at least the 50s? The lettering is carved into the wooden fascia boards and I'm guessing must have been covered in complementary coloured glass panels to give quite a classy deep 3-D effect. Such craftsmanship and so evocative of a lost era...

I was fortunate to find more at Wingate. Stay posted for more ghostly Northern Archaology!

Amateur signs. I love these almost as much as old style professional sign-writer work (and those are getting so scarce I feel like a jubilant David Attenbrough when I find a good one.) Here are two obviously amateur signs which almost border on folk art in their naivete.

First one for a Chinese Buffet was found in Bishop Auckland. This takes a highly painterly approach with liberal splashes of (gloss?) colour. Unashamed dripping is a feature as are quickly dabbed flower motifs. Every inch of space is filled, note the arbitrary repetition of the word "buffet".

The second amateur piece is from Horden, Co. Durham. The approach is entirely different, highly tentative, with no evident artistic "flair". There is no understanding of centre-ing the letters. These are applied using a stencil, but the maker couldn't resist dotting the i's (but on capitals?) In the end the sign was abandoned but remains fixed to the shop exterior in its full illiterate beauty!

Saturday night and the working week is over. Even pen-pushers with O-Levels will be thinking about leaving the wife at home with her knitting and having a pint or twelve down the local. Try this Disappearing Phrase out on the barmaid. She's sure to be impressed.

Closed Shops. I have a definite fascination with abandoned, empty or redundant business premises. Those with explanatory window notices especially appeal to my imagination. If you are a visitor or passer by you can only guess at the story behind these shops of mystery. When you peer through the dusty windows it's impossible to resist wondering what the owners were like, where they are now and did they ever get over their bout of ill health? I took the first photo in Willington and the second in Fencehouses, both Co.Durham.

Expect some more North East photographic posts as I now carry my camera wherever I travel. These spots of run-down beauty are worth preserving before they are ruined by re-development.

Favourite Shops No.2 - The Repository, Talbot Road, Blackpool, Lancashire.

This emporium of all things Roman Catholic is located next door to Blackpool's Jesuit Church of the Sacred Heart. Being right in the heart of the original entertainment capital of the British North West, it's said that Variety entertainers of the RC faith often favour attending this grandly decorated parish church. Did Danny La Rue sometimes pop in for Saturday evening Confession inbetween matinee and evening show? Perhaps Keith Harris and Orville donated some of their appearance fees to the Jesuit's overseas charity work?

The Repository Shop must surely receive some financial support from the Sacred Heart parish, as the handful of times I've called in I've been the sole visitor. I imagine come that special time of the liturgical year they must do good business from the sale of First Communion dresses and cards. The only purchase I've ever made was a resin statue of Padre Pio, and the selection of statues was vast: from good old shamrock loving St.Patrick to traditionalist favourites like Our Lady of Fatima and, of course, the Sacred Heart of Jesus.

The exterior of the shop sadly features a modern PVC fascia, but at least with its black and gold colour scheme an attempt has been made at sobriety. The old-fashioned feature I love is the amber coloured acetate sun-screen which protects the holy sacramentals on display in the window. This adds an aura of mystery to what is on sale inside and is the opposite of the contemporary hard-sell: if you really want a holy water-stoop for your hallway then you might just spot one through the thick layers of glass and ageing orange plastic. Inside the Repository you enter a dimly lit space, pleasantly overcrowded with Sympathy and Prayer Cards. What is refreshing is you can't freely browse the larger items which are situated on dusty shelves in non-revealing cardboard boxes. The elderly staff, in home-knitted tank-tops and nylon house coats, are happy to help in their quiet way and will slowly reveal the item you want on highly polished glass counters.

I hope this shop continues to remain in business. The Catholic Truth Society shop in Liverpool disappeared years ago. Most of the dwindling numbers of today's younger practising Catholics wouldn't dream of displaying religious images in their laminated homes when a Jack Vettriano print will do the job of inoffensive neutrality. The thought of a Repository bought photo of Pope Benedict would just cause embarrassed titters.

Drawing is from my 2001 mini-book of shop drawings A Nation Of Shopkeepers.

It is Shrove Tuesday today. While you flip those pancakes I hope you are thinking of what sacrifices to make during the holy season of Lent which begins tomorrow. Call me a gloomy old coot, but this is my favourite time of year. I love to watch during Lent the gradual awakening of the natural world from winter to spring. The liturgy of the Church reflects this profoundly as it slowly starts with the winter severity of Ash Wednesday and finally reaches the bloom and glory of Easter Day.

Picture is from V & A Museum leaflet from 1975, illustrated by Eric Ravilious.