It seems to me that the Bank Holiday weekend visitors (in Settle) this time round were different. Not that I saw many on the Monday, thanks to the cold and the wet.

On Sunday evening I happened on about a dozen sporty-looking saloon cars ranked in Whitefriars car park as if on a starting grid, their young drivers and co-pilots thronging noisily about, or sitting in the cars revving up, some of the girls dutifully lounging across bonnets in the time-honoured fashion of car shows and adverts.

These were not the same as I had seen earlier going through the Square. Those had been all the same, except for colour (and I didn’t note the make or model), and all made the same loud, throaty, spitting engine notes as they each gunned the accelerator at the same spot just before the narrows, as if the whole spectacle had been choreographed. The engine noise was such that, before I turned to look, I thought I would see motorbikes. Now, that would have been traditional, in Settle.

On another evening stroll I came across several gangling lads, who didn’t appear to be local, finishing off fish’n’chips while sprawling on the benches outside the closed Naked Man cafe. I was sure they were going to leave or scatter their litter, and was gearing up to remonstrate, when one got up, gathered the debris, and ran across the road to cram it into an already overflowing bin outside the town hall. So I thanked him, and he grinned.

An afterthought. You might just want to pin some of the littering problem in the town on those unemptied bins, rather than on the visitors.

Graham Ball

Settle