The doings of Mel, Leyburn's resident oddball, have occupied the minds of townsfolk recently. It's fair to say Mel's presence has split the town down the middle.

Put simply, Mel is what is commonly known as a bit of a character, who at one time whiled away the hours with his two dogs, Storm and Patch, in the market place bus shelter. He did so quite happily until the town council decided to put gates on the shelter and to lock it shut except on market days.

Mel now takes up residence on the old town hall steps and his routine remains much as before. As our correspondents have pointed out on this page, he likes a drink (apparently a cider/meths cocktail is his preferred cocktail) and is an amiable fellow. He does not beg and has no known criminal record.

Now the council has requested that a bylaw be passed to give the police powers to move Mel and his dogs on if he drinks in the town centre. Mel's supporters are crying "witch hunt".

There is, of course, another view which has for the most part been hidden. Nobody wants to be the person to publically bad-mouth Mel.

Those who have pressured the town council to act are genuinely concerned about some aspects of his behaviour, which tends to be rather more erratic as the sun, and the cider/meths cocktail, goes down. There is also the concern that his presence may intimidate visitors, who would be unaware of his benign nature. The town, suffering still from the effects of the foot-and-mouth crisis on its economy, needs those visitors more than ever.

Surely, someone, somebody should take it upon themselves to sort the situation out. The man must be allowed to be himself but without alarming half the town. Market towns should have their characters but not at the expensive of civic pride.

Festive vocal clash

A SMALL but select band gathered outside Northallerton town hall on Sunday night to partake of the excitement surrounding the switching on of the town's Christmas tree lights.

The hardy souls, among them switch-flicker in chief Grp Capt Andy Walton of RAF Leeming, were welcomed by the mayor, Coun Sally Anderson.

However, as the PA system failed to work, Spectator and Co had to guess at what was being said.

The assembled crowd had managed to glean that we were about to launch into O Little Town of Bethlehem by way of starting the festivities, when Barker's rather loud clock had other ideas and began a long, slow chiming of Silent Night in direct competition.

Gamely, the band struck up and the massed voices, well, a couple of dozen, did their best to drown out the dogged timepiece.

It was a close thing but they managed it.

It all goes to prove that time and tide wait for no man. Or woman. Or, indeed, the mayor of North Yorkshire's county town.