AN OLD man in tattered rags has been haunting the moments before I nod off, resurfacing after 30 years in the wilderness.

Because the senior citizen in question first puzzled me back in the mid-80s, when the Magills still inhabited one of the fine old Victorian terraces on Willis Street.

He was an unkempt chap who first came to light during Sunday School trips to Warrington Parish Church.

Each week he would slip into the back set of pews, closest to the door with no-one for company except the church warden further back, re-arranging the hymn books and welcoming latecomers.

Never having read Orwell at Fairfield, I wouldn’t yet have recognised a ‘gentleman of the road’ for love nor money.

But every Sunday without fail for months he faithfully turned up, shuffling into his little corner and leaving quietly towards the end.

Because the Sunday School devotees were near the front, every attempt to see whether he came up for Communion was thwarted, and after we had received our blessing, at any rate, he was back in his lonely seat.

Then one week he just stopped appearing. For all I knew maybe his faith, in a cruel and harsh world, had dwindled.

Old age could have even taken its toll, as to unworldly eyes he could have been shed anywhere between 50 and 80.

I remember being convinced he lived in the big empty derelict house opposite the old Liberal Club, for no concrete reason, except it seemed to suit.

Before too long I suffered my own religious crisis, as the Sunday morning fixtures of Fife Rangers quickly saw Sunday School kicked into touch.

Many of the old characters of Fairfield and Howley were indispensable parts of my youth, from the kindly Nancy, known wider for working well beyond her retirement age on the fish stall at Warrington Market, to the sharp-eyed Mrs Foster, watching everything from her front gate, to Mr Clare, the abductor of a good half-dozen childhood footballs and the owner of the only unscaleable fence on the block.

But the old fella who kept to himself at St Elphin’s remained a mystery. If there’s anyone from the days of Jock Colling, who can shed any light on my delusions, I’d be eternally grateful and might sleep a little sounder.

  •  If Hitesh Patel and Kevin Bennett would like some free advice on the on-off transit site debate from someone who has attended three or four times as many council meetings as both of them combined – steer well clear.

I’ve yet to fathom how Bennett’s Rec, left to the town by renowned philanthropist Alderman Bennett, came to be considered for such a project.

But scoring political points over such a polarising question does Cllr Patel or Cllr Bennett little credit.

Once I recall visiting a travellers’ encampment near Rixton, where the mobile homes were spotless compared to the back kitchens I’d sat down in as the district reporter for Longford and Orford.

And then again I recall the frequent arrival of travellers on the former Thames Board site, long before the Riverside Retail Park came into being, and the disruption that inevitably brought.

I’ve witnessed several battles over the rights or wrongs of travellers’ transit sites and all bar none have left me feeling a little uneasy, either way.

You’ll notice I’ve not used the word ‘Gypsy’ here (or ‘Gipsy’ depending on which way the Guardian style guide swings these days).

That’s because Gypsy/Gipsy is a recognised ethnic grouping, and unless you’re 100 per cent sure, it’s usually ‘travellers’ to play it safe.