Stary, stary night ... where the f*** are you ?

In the absence of the right sort of weather conditions, about this time in January some 55 years ago Mecannylad vividly remembers impatience getting the better of me when I trashed my new Xmas present from my parent's by putting a set of old pram wheels on a lovely traditional wooden Alpine sledge.

Boy did I get the s*** knocked out of me by my father.

I tell you .... If the bloody skies don't clear soon that old impetuosity is likely to take hold of me again.

Just watch out for a wheeled telescope of Hubblesque proportions careering around the Peak District.

F*** off clouds will you; Mecannylad has got some serious stargazing to do.

MECANNYLAD : THE EARLY YEARS

And so it passed, Mecannylad was born amongst the bullrushes on the banks of the River Tyne in the Geordie citadel of Byker.

And it begat they first thought I might have musical tendancies as all my mother did during her pregnanacy was listen to Sing Something Simple on the wireless.They were wrong.

Times were tough but even if I have to say it myself I was a pretty bright kid at school. I remember passing my eleven-plus when I was ten, passing my GCE's at fifteen ..... and passing water in my sleep when I was sixteen.

This personal plumbing problem coupled with south facing bedroom windows and hot chimney breasts meant there always seemed to be a rainbow around my shoulder.

When I was nineteen I went to Oxford ..... to see my beloved Newcastle United lose to Oxford United. My education was completed in the toilet on the Flying Scotsman back home to Newcastle by an ambidextrous woman I`d met in the buffet bar.

Fast forward forty six years ......

MECANNYLAD NOW

Everyone knows everybody elses`s business here in the glorious Peak District village of Eyam. Infact, each and every villager seems to have the right to know everyone else`s bloody business ..... and woe betide anyone who thinks otherwise.

Mecannylad can go into the pub on a Friday night wearing a new pair of socks.
By Saturday morning all the locals out on the High Street will know not just what colour they are, but what size they are too ... and how much they cost !

Everybody and everything is fair game. There are no bloody secrets around here. None whatsoever !

SO WHAT EXACTLY IS A CANNY LAD THEN ?

In and around the North East of England it is vaguely complimentary to be considered `canny`.

A `cannylad` or a `cannylass` would have something good about them. They might be pleasant, kind, fun, caring, loving, careful ... good looking even!
Nobody is quite sure what nevertheless!!

A `Geordie` is a native of Newcastle upon Tyne .... and of course a `Townie` strangely enjoys the feeling of concrete under their feet rather than grass.

Not a lot of people know that the majestic Peak District, where Mecannylad is now undertaking his voluntary missionary work, is the second most visited National Park in the world - yes, the world - with an estimated twenty two million visitors every year.