PETE the Mar'ton postie, who hurtles round the dale in his van dropping off mail and parcels at the outlying farms, calls in at the Beggarsdale post office of a morning (before opening hours, that is) and takes a cuppa with Cousin Kate.

Usually, they share a moan or three about the Royal Mail these days (they take the flak for chaos they do not cause) but earlier this week, Pete had some red hot gossip to impart.

"Was up at the new trout farm this morning," he said with a sly smile. "And guess who was there but Owd Tom from Hard Rock Farm and the new fella from the Old Vicarage - him that owns he place."

Kate's eyebrows rose so high they nearly displaced her reading glasses.

"You mean Tom and Maggots were together? But they hate each other - what on earth were they doing?" "Fishing." "What?"

"They were fishing. Or at least Maggots was trying to fish - fly fish, you know. It looked as though Tom was showing him how to do it."

"Ah huh," muttered Kate as if in triumph. "So that's what the little so-and-so's up too..."

Now the feud between Owd Tom and Maggots Moneygrubber has been stuff of Beggarsdale legend ever since Maggots banned Tom from fishing the River Beggar. But Maggots' new trout fishery in the old quarry opens this weekend and the village has been dying to know if Tom will turn up: he is, after all, a life-long fisherman and the best caster of a fly in the Dale.

Maggots' wife Beryl was seen to hand Tom a letter in the Beggars' Arms a week or so ago but Tom pointedly refused to divulge its contents. And there is nothing more guaranteed to get things talked about in this village than refusing to talk about them.

So the news that Tom was giving Maggots secret casting lessons spread like wildfire. If the feud is over, how, what and why? Had, for instance, money changed hands?

This was considered unlikely for although Tom is not averse to swapping a brace of rabbits for a pint of Rams' Blood ale, he is a stubborn old bleeper and wouldn't accept an unearned brass farthing from his best mate, never mind a sworn enemy.

The mystery turned into deep puzzlement on Tuesday night when Tom, in his role as chairman of BAFFFFAS (the Beggarsdale Association of Fly Fisherman, Ferret Fanciers and Ale Suppers) announced that he was calling an extraordinary general meeting to consider the election of a new member - something that has not happened since Jetset was inducted a decade or so ago.

Suspicions are running high. "It's got to be Maggots," says Cousin Kate. "Can't be," says Ben the Bucket, "Tom 'ates 'im."

"There must be something at stake here we don't understand," muses Jetset.

All will be revealed this weekend. We hope...

o The Curmudgeon is a satirical column based on a fictitious character in a mythical village.