Malton, October 25. I seemed to have an aberration of some sort last week when writing this column, for I somehow thought the Gazette was printing what I had written, the same week, and consequently the whole tense was a week out of kilter.

However, with the kind of help of the ladies at York, I was able to have my wrong stuff deleted and another tale substituted.

Tomorrow’s Gazette will show if all has been successful.

• I had a look out at the sky one day during the week and saw a delightful Milky Way, visible from where I live, which is something I appreciate, because as a youngster I would often look out into the night sky, and call of the family to “come out and just look at the stars tonight”. Strange though it may seem, I expect there are countless youngsters who have never seen the Milky Way and all because of street lights, and the only way to see the stars is to go into the country.

Perhaps today’s youngsters would be looking at their iPods or games screens which, today, are perhaps more appealing than looking at the stars in the heavens.

I see that Exmoor National Park has now an internet dark sky reserve where people can go, leaving the brightly-lit streets behind and gaze at what is happening above.

Canada has a similar location in Quebec.

I don’t suppose that folk will be going there in their thousands, but nevertheless it’s a step in the right direction to bring folk back to the world itself and away from all the artificialness of life today.

• You’ll have been to Hunmanby Gap, no doubt. I’ve had many a happy time there, having ridden there on the bike, gone to the Gap Café to see Michael and family and to partake in a welcome cuppa and sometimes to climb down to that lovely remote beach which stretches forever, along through Primrose Valley, Muston Sands to Filey Brigg, and to just gaze at its remoteness and quietude, listen to the breakers and to be rewarded by the wind from the sea blowing away the cares of the world. I’ve never walked along the Brigg, and won’t ever do so now.

A wonderful experience I expect for those of you who have had the opportunity.

I hear rumours of this delightful beach being made into a ‘designated beach’ which means making it more appealing to the general public, the installation of litter bins, etc. A well intentioned idea, no doubt, but once some ‘authority’ decides to take charge and the kiosks take root, ice cream, teas, fish and chips, public toilets, candy floss, and the hordes descend, then this delightful stretch of nature will disappear.

Leave it alone for goodness sake, there are plenty of commercial outlets along this coast, for there are thousands of folk who visit there just because it is what it is, and they don’t need the razamataz. Its remoteness is its very attractiveness – let it stay that way.

• I didn’t find room last week for the aftermath of that wonderful event at York Minster, for my visit to the reception at the Assembly Rooms was a real delight. Here, everyone knew everyone, and if they didn’t then a smile, a handshake and some friendly words expressing their delight at both the service in the Minster and the flypast by the French Air Force and RAF soon made an immediate friendship.

I was able to chat with a jovial French senior officer, whose name escapes me now, who told me he had been a navigator in the first actions made by the French with raids from Elvington. Words exchanged with American paratroops while sharing in some excellent canapés and wine.

Joshing with the Chief of Air Staff, who joined in the chattering of our family group, and with countless local folk, everyone with a smiling face, and delighted to be part of this unique gathering.

I was pleased to meet up again with Ian Carstairs, a member of the museum’s board of trustees, and who I would visit to have a cuppa with Jan and he when they lived among us at their delightful home at Butterwick, and I was ‘just pedalling past’.

Lots to talk about with RAF pilots, French photographers, an old acquaintance and the Lord Mayor of York’s chauffeur. He sat and chatted with us, telling us of his journey back to the Mansion House. He raised a smile when he implied he would be taking his local dignitaries back. Not in the mayoral limo, I might add, just walking. Ah well, ’spect you do need a chauffeur for that journey in York. Include this day in my box of ‘best days’.

• I was delighted to meet last week, Jan and Andrew Duncan, the previous owners of Hoppers. Both looking extremely well and their first visit back here after leaving seven weeks ago. Their visit was a sad one really, to attend the funeral of a customer of theirs, Millicent Maw, of Rillington Fields. I too knew her.

Sister Maw of Malton Hospital, who I remember telling me that she was on duty one day during the war when a German Bomber was brought down alongside the Sheepwalk at Castle Howard, not far from Mr Crisp’s farm. Three members of the crew were brought to the hospital, so she had a busy time.

One of them died after admission.

I don’t have a note of date or aircraft type at this moment, but I believe it was fairly early in the war.

• And to today’s silliness, well it really can’t be classed as anything else. Telford in Shropshire has stopped publishing scores of results in their junior football league. And why? To spare the blushes of the losers.

“Well, they’re only eight years old you know”.

Anyhow, there had been some dissention from the parents of those over eight and a half years old, and that group will have their results published in full. This surely can’t be classed as ‘elf and safety’, can it?

You can’t protect children from everything can you, otherwise they’ll never grow up, and anyway. Losing is just part of the game isn’t it.

Niver ’eard owt sa daft.

• Just a smile: “Never buy owt wi’ a wooden handle – it allus means hard work”. Old Yorkshire proverb.