ian16th (your #8980),
...But you have a TS post code, and my birth certificate says North Riding...
It would - it was issued long before "Cleveland" was dreamed of, and things were simple. Everything North of the Tees was County Durham, and everything South was North Riding of York.
So when I was in Thornaby I was in Yorkshire, and when I had a five-minute ride over the bridge into Stockton, I was in Durham.
Caused some difficulty once, when one of our 608 (Auxiliary) Squadron, on Summer Camp at El Adem (?) was killed in a Vampire. The body was flown home to Thornaby, and taken to a hospital in Stockton. Fall-out: two Coroners in bitter demarkation dispute, with us as "Piggies-in-The-Middle".
...You have a TS post code...
True. But why won't bureaucrats leave us alone ? In my first years as a VATman up here, all the North York moors nearly down to Whitby were in our baileywick. In the summers it was a lovely job. My "clients" were mostly farmers, and they were straight out of "All Creatures Great and Small". (Incidentally, "James Herriot", was Alf Wight: on occasion, I took our little doggie to his surgery in Churchgate when we lived in Thirsk).
Farmers are normally "Repayment Traders" (ie they don't pay us - we pay them ! - except for the ones who'd specialised in the most lucrative and least laborious crop of all - renting space for overwintering "townie's" caravans). Consequently, we were made welcome, there would always be a strong cup of tea and home-baked scones with freshly made butter waiting on the farmhouse kitchen table for us.
Of course, we "knew the form": wear your oldest suit and old rugger stockings and always have a shovel and a pair of gumboots in the boot. When farm in sight, stop and put gumboots on - for you might have to go through fields, open and
close gates, (curious cows spend a lot of time "marking time" at them), then park in farmyard and tread through an inch or two of liquid
something to reach the door. Then gumboots off, and go padding on the cool stone floors like everybody else. Effusive greeting from muddy collie (once reassured that you are not an enemy).
Get file out of bag and start work.
What about the Bureaucrats ? Next time !
Danny.