THE experts have been at it again and, beggar me, they are going to put Beggarsdale on the map. A very special map: one that ladies can read.

Now I have to tread careful here or there will be civil war at Curmudgeon Corner.

It could be a case of shooting the messenger but all I am doing as a simple reporter is to explain that psychologists have discovered that female brains work somewhat differently to male brains and one of the results of this is that the fairer sex does have difficulty in reading maps.

Now I could have told them that. So, I suspect, could many other gentlemen readers. So in the interests of fearless journalism, I shall reveal the truth, even if is does mean ending up in the divorce court.

The Curmudgeoness, you see, does have a slight problem when it comes to road maps. She cannot quite grasp the concept that a road runs in two directions at once, north-south say, or east-west.

So back in the days when the Curmudgeonlets were young and we went on long camping holidays in France, we would often find ourselves bounding along on the right road only to find out, perhaps two hours later, that we were going in the wrong direction.

That would mean another two hours back to the place where we started.

I daren't even explain how we once found ourselves in Paris in the middle of the rush hour pulling a trailer, which was illegal at that time of day: the pain would be too much.

But we did cause consternation to the crew of a small ferry serving one of the remoter Western Isles when we made the crossing and then immediately turned round to join the queue for the return trip.

I had managed to sneak a look at the map, you see, and realiseD we were heading west when we were supposed to be going east.

The navigational duties were handed over to the male Curmudgeonlet when he was about eight and we never went wrong again.

Which is perhaps why the Ordnance Survey has decided to produce a new, simpler, series of road maps specifically designed for tourists.

One of the first will cover the Yorkshire Dales and it may, or may not, put Beggarsdale on the map. Trouble is, to simplify matters, many of the minor side roads will be left out.

And as all roads leading to Beggarsdale are just about as minor as you can get, there is a good chance we will be wiped from the face of the earth, cartographically speaking (look it up, kiddywinks).

Now this has split the village, as per usual. The Innkeeper and Mean Mike at the post office are desperate to be on the map, for solid commercial reasons: they just love the trippers. Many others would happily disappear into limbo if it meant more peace and quiet.

But knowing the speed at which Government bodies like the Ordance Survey work, it will be years before we have to cross that bridge. And by that time, no-one will be able to afford the petrol to get here anyway!

PS: Another bunch of experts have worked out that a long, happy marriage is worth £7,000 a year in financial terms. So, Mrs C, that more than compensates for your somewhat curious career in the navigator's seat

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