IT is always a pleasure to meet a man who loves his trade, however humble it might be. When that trade has caused him to fall off a farmhouse roof and plunge headfirst into the midden below - and laugh about it - you know you are dealing with something of a character.

Alan Holdsworth is a chimney sweep, one of a dwindling band of men who since medieval times have been thought to bring good luck to other people, especially brides on their wedding day.

So that midden dive might be considered to have been lucky for Alan - after all, he could have landed headfirst onto a cobbled farmyard, which might have done him no good at all. He was lucky, too, when another chimney weighing almost half a ton fell onto his ladder, rather than his head, breaking into hundreds of bricks.

Alan, 58, laughs at these stories - indeed, is trying to write a book about them - but it would be inaccurate to suggest that his 32-year career sweeping chimneys from Buckden to Burnley was packed with more falls than a Norman Wisdom movie.

In fact, it is more of a tale of having a nice cup of tea, and perhaps a slice of specially baked cake, on his annual visit to customers in remote Dales cottages or one-time miners' terraces which he has served, year in, year out, for more than three decades.

"You'll never get rich sweeping chimneys," said Alan at his 200-year-old cottage next to the canal in the heart of Skipton. "But I consider myself a rich man because of all the people I have met and the pleasure I have had passing the time of day with them.

"I have watched the children of my older customers grow up and have children of their own. I visit my regular customers once a year if they want to keep their chimneys kept in good nick. Many of them seem look forward to my visit for a cup of tea and a chat afterwards. The older ladies tend to bake me a special cake."

Alan was born in Colne, son of a coalman in the days before the Clean Air Acts, when mining and mill towns lived under a constant pall of smoke from coal fires. For the miners, coal was free, part of their pay, so they burned it with abandon. But Alan had itchy feet so he joined the army, becoming a chef in officers' messes in Germany.

That, too, could have offered a future career, but Alan is an outdoors sort of guy, a champion match fishermen with national gold and silver medals to prove it, and when he left the army after five years, he looked round for some sort of a job which would get him out and about.

He met a friend in Colne who wanted to sell his chimney sweep round and he offered to teach Alan the tricks of the trade - of which, I have now learned, there are many - if he worked with him free for six months."He drove a pretty hard bargain but, after 30-odd years in the job, I suppose it was worth it," Alan laughs now.

That trade was beginning to dry up in East Lancashire as more and people switched from coal to gas. Alan found himself working more and more in the Dales, where people in isolated cottages were miles from the nearest gas main, a trend which eventually brought him to Skipton.

And he had to learn some new techniques as changes in domestic heating technology began to bite. Just as the Eskimos have a dozen or so different names for snow, Alan - a fascinating insight this - had to learn to deal with different sorts of soot!

He explains: "I suppose most older people know what coal soot looks like, but how many realise that the soot from smokeless fuel is brown and can be quite dangerous? If rain leaks into an open chimney where smokeless fuel is being burned, it can set solid like concrete and completely seal the chimney. That can cause very dangerous fumes to build up, particular at night when people are asleep.

"Wood burning stoves, which are now very fashionable, are a different matter. That soot sets like coffee grounds and is difficult to remove. Those stoves cause me another problem, too, because they are often installed without inspection hatches.

"If a bird or other animals - I have found dead mice, rats and even a cat in chimneys - fall into the flu, there is no way of rescuing them without dismantling the whole unit. But, for me, the problem is that I can't sweep them from below.

"It means that I have to go onto the roof and sweep them down - and that can be pretty dangerous. That's what I was doing the day I fell into the midden. Who knows what would have happened if it hadn't been there?"

As I said earlier, it is always a treat to meet people who are experts at their chosen jobs. Alan Holdsworth doesn't go to weddings to wish the bride luck - "I've got a proper job to fill my time" - but it is a rare sort of fellow who can fascinate by talking about the different properties of soot.

It almost makes me sad that I don't have a coal fire any more. So although I can't put any business his way, I can at least to wish him continued good luck. May his midden always be in the right place!