GYPSIES are in trouble with the residents of Bainbridge after causing a mess on the village green and allegedly damaging the village toilets, the little tinkers.

The police showed a bit of interest initially, but then took a more hands off approach.

The council was also pragmatic, deciding to help clear up any mess afterwards, rather than make it an issue at the time.

It’s difficult to avoid the sentiment “If that was anyone else...” Until the Caravan Club merges with the Pony Club and forms a radical guerilla camping branch, we will never know if that’s true.

I once spent a couple of hours with Billy Welch, selfproclaimed King of the Gypsies, in his Darlington caravan.

Billy, who organises Appleby Horse Fair, and his family were friendly and charming, but then he wasn’t camped outside my back door with his horses grazing on my lawn.

Generally, I think people in the Dales accept the annual passing through of travellers and Gypsies on their way to and from Appleby. Whatever you think of their way of life, it’s difficult not to have a grudging respect for their refusal to tow the line.

Speaking as someone who gets nervous using the toilet in McDonald’s when I haven’t bought a burger, it must take some brass neck to park up in the middle of a village green and fire up the barbecue.

It was sad to hear about the recent death of bus driver Tommy Alderson. Tommy was one of several gentleman bus drivers you see travelling up and down the Dales. For many, these men will have ferried them through life – to and from school, 18th and 21th birthdays, drunken football club trips to Blackpool, stag and hen parties, wedding receptions Women’s Institute days out and goodness knows what else. Patience in abundance, every one of them. I suspect that if you added together the time they had spent parked outside a pub waiting for the last passenger to finish their drink, pop to the toilet, have a quick chat by the door and then finally get on board, it would come to weeks.