THE much publicised celebration of the tenth anniversary of ‘The Angel of the North’, the towering metallic statue which dominates the north-east skyline near Gateshead, may have suggested other northern landmarks are of less esteem.

Though modest in appearance, Penrith’s Beacon Pike, on top of a wooded hill, can be seen for miles around — a picturesque reminder to drivers, travelling on the M6, that they are only a few minutes away from town.

It must be as well-known to passing strangers as the celebrated ‘Angel’, though much less of a scenic intrusion.

Traditionally, locals have always kept an eye on the Beacon, originally for any sign of fire to warn of the approach of Scottish raiders, in centuries long past.

In his History of Penrith, William Furness said: “The match was ever kept in readiness to light the Beacon, to signal the people to arms in defence of their homesteads, their cattle and their lives.”

The sandstone turret which marks the point where warning fires blazed, is now a neat town emblem. Historian Furness wrote: “It has become quite proverbial that Penrithians scarcely ever settle anywhere out of sight of Perith Beacon.”

These words were written in 1894 and, although the Beacon no longer has such a hold on the natives, there is still positive evidence of an awareness and feeling for the little building on top of the hill and its significance.

Look in the telephone directory and you will find Beacon Computers, Beacon Ceramics, Beacon Fire Protection, Beacon Home Care Services, Beacon Insurance Brokers Ltd., Beacon Security, Beacon Social Club, Beacon Taxis and two Beaconside schools.

There used to be a Beacon Inn, in Fell Lane, and older housewives can recall baking cakes with Beacon flour, a speciality of grocers Pattinson and Winter.

Freemasons spend convivial evenings at the Beacon Lodge, there used to be a Beacon Wheelers’ cycling club and Penrith Beacon Cricket Club was the original name of the town club.

And in the sphere of sociability, posh dinners in town invariably ended with a toast to “The Bonny Lasses round Penrith Beacon”.

Can the gigantic ‘Angel of the North’ equal our modest hill-top Beacon Pike in the imprint it has made on local life? The little building must be cherished and preserved, as it has been for 200 years by the Earls of Lonsdale.

TASTY BOOKS TO RELISH

Hurrah, whoopee! Delia Smith — “the voice of common sense in the kitchen” — has written a new book about cooking and the national press is in a frenzy of adulation.

In a report-cum-review covering much of a tabloid page, The Times said Delia had the “recipe for success”, as the book was already a best-seller, based on pre-orders alone.

Supportive of local effort, this column has always remained loyal to the Dufton and Knock Parish Church cookery book, which merits a mention as it is just 60 years old, having been published in 1948.

The book was compiled at a time when food preparation was a more demanding task, for housewives in 1948 knew nothing about microwaves, takeaways, pizzas or organic food.

Women in towns and villages throughout Eden submitted favourite recipes, which were divided into sections — meat dishes, puddings, cakes, etc. — and printed in a neat, blue-backed book by Whiteheads of Appleby.

How about “a delicious mode of cooking rabbit” or poacher’s pie or herb pudding, complete with dandelion leaves and nettles?

A lighthearted section of household hints includes several gems:

Face powder may get you a man, but it takes baking powder to keep him.

When a man has money to burn, there is always a woman to strike the match.

Mrs. Foster, of Bolton, suggested a recipe in rhyme for a happy day:

Take one whole pound of kindliness

And stir it round with thoughts that bless.

Plenty of patience makes it nice.

Some fun will add a pleasant spice.

Don’t weigh out love but pour it in.

Oil of good cheer will grease your tin.

Mix well in just the old-time way

And you’ll have made a pleasant day.

The Dufton cookbook may not have been a best-seller, but to satisfy demand it was reprinted three times over six years — a remarkable achievement for a local publication.

Sixty years on, the village enterprise still deserves a “rave review”.

SHEER MAGIC

Manchester United footballer Cristiano Ronaldo scales new heights of brilliance which, coupled with skills of television cameramen, dazzle viewers as they have never been dazzled before.

A neighbour in Penrith, who saw Ronaldo inspire victory in a recent televised match, was heard to comment, “He’s good, isn’t he?”

Good? It is like saying that grass is green or water is wet!

Sporting heroes of the past are totally overshadowed by the Ronaldo range of wizardry in the close control of a football, allied to the power and accuracy of his shooting.

Mere mortals, languishing in armchairs, flick TV controls and in a split-second they are in the middle of a football stadium, hundreds of miles away, for a close-up of the young master baffling opponents with his trickery — both as it happens and later in slow motion!

Superlatives are called for, but we take it all for granted and complain about the commentary.

TO T OR NOT TO T

It is one of the lesser mysteries of life in 2008, but have you noticed the gradual disappearance of the T as a central letter in certain words?

Strangely, everyday words like matter, bitter and fatter emerge from many mouths as ma’er, bi’er and fa’er.

The trend not to pronounce the middle T was first noticed while watching TV, particularly among younger characters, but now the omissions can be heard in local conversations.

“Can I get you some wa’er?” inquired a waitress. A shop customer requested some toma’oes.

Perhaps some erudite reader can explain sloppy speech and account for the downgrading of the T as a letter, or should that be le’er?