WHERE else would you expect to find a York shipbuilder but Navigation Road? Painter and decorator tiny Tim Agar, 42, is berthed in Rosemary Place, where he loves to make sailing ships out of oak, African walnut and mahogany to original blueprints.

His bathroom is awash with them. He has been building the Bounty for two years and is only up to the masts after lashing out £500 to buy a monthly modelling mag which came with all the necessary wood, rope, parts and blueprint to finish the job. I bet the original didn't cost that much!

"I love tall ships and iron-clad warships. The more I get into the intricacies of each part of the vessels the more I admire the skills and craftsmanship that went into making the real ones," says Tim who, in paint-spattered overalls, looks as if he's just come from touching up the paintwork of Captain Cook's Endeavour.

He lovingly bends, shapes, drills and planes all the parts of the famous vessels he builds. The tea clipper Cutty Sark was "a great challenge," says Tim. Next on the stocks is Admiral Nelson's Victory. Tim pipes up: "That will get the old grey matter going." The INL Club committee man also makes ships in bottles and fashions seafaring knots into pictures when he's not there having a tot, watching the totty and selling raffle tickets.

u BUMPED into Yvonne Ridley in a London pub the other day. You know Yvonne, the journalist who was captured by the Taliban in Afghanistan without a passport before the war broke out.

I knew Yvonne in another life years ago and there she was large as life, thank Allah, sipping a large... water, ugh!

I asked how the Taliban really treated her. "When they realised I was really a reporter and not a spy they killed me with kindness, really," she said. "They did me a favour during the short time I was their guest, really," said the County Durham hackette who proved she can hack it.

"When I got back to my family in West Pelton my blood pressure had gone down. No phones - they wouldn't let me ring me mam to tell her I wasn't dead - no booze nor cakes and no hassle."

She had refused to eat and existed on water but the Taliban worried about her health and called in a doctor who confirmed her blood pressure had gone down.

Newcastle fan Yvonne, who has had a life-long hate affair with Man U, recalled the day she was given a little radio by her captors and she listened to the live game between Spurs and the Red Devils.

"When Spurs went three nil up I got so excited I dropped the radio and it broke. The fact that Man U had been stuffed kept me going for the last part of my captivity."

She was released and sent to Pakistan a few days after the Allies' air raids on Kabul in early October.

"Imagine how choked I was when I got back home and found Man U had bounced back to win five three."

Yvonne's book about her exploits as an Afghan news-hound hit the shelves last Tuesday and now she plans to turn freelance and return to the war-ravaged country to report on the aftermath.

THE class system is still with us, despite the Herculean efforts of John Major, the man who ran away from the circus to become a chartered accountant. What's in a name, you may ask.

Still quite a bit, according to Hunters the estate agents.

In the photographs which accompany their gallery of houses in the Property Press every Thursday, you'll see that one of the smiling team at their Easingwold office is Stephen Rowe.

Beside the selection of properties from the Haxby office of Hunters there is the same gentleman pictured again. In fact, judging by the shirt and tie, the two photos were taken on the same day. But there is a subtle difference: Mr Rowe's smile is not quite so broad at Haxby, and the caption describes him, more man-of-the-people style, as Steve Rowe.

Can we expect that if the two men called Andy who are half of the Hunters team in its Acomb office get relocated up to Easingwold, they will be transformed into Andrews?

Overheard at Marks & Spencer in York:

Enthusiastic sales assistant: "These tops are a good choice, Madam, they don't date".

The large customer of a certain age looked sad: "No, neither do I", she muttered wistfully.

During a school visit to York Crown Court recently scores of children packed the public gallery to watch part of a trial for attempted murder.

Later, the resident judge gave them a private, personal briefing in court fully robed in all the majesty of the law.

I'm told they watched very respectfully for the best part of an hour and then left in such perfect order that Judge Paul Hoffman complimented them on their behaviour. They are obviously going to be law-abiding when they grow up - and I'm told that the judge welcomes such visits.

Given my track record, I tend to give courts a wide berth.

SOME geezer who claimed he is from the science department of the University of York was telling me that millions of years ago, there was no such thing as the wheel.

Apparently one day, some primitive guys were watching their wives drag a dead mastodon to the food-preparation area.

It was exhausting work and the guys were getting tired just watching.

Then they noticed some large, smooth, rounded boulders, and they had an idea.

They could sit on the boulders and watch!

When his .38-caliber revolver failed to fire at its intended victim during a holdup in Long Beach, California, robber James Elliot did something that can only inspire wonder: he peered down the barrel and tried the trigger again.

Happily for all except one, this time it worked.

Defining moment

"Every Prime Minister should have a little Willie," Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher trying to heap big praise on Cabinet member William Whitelaw