Pick of the week’s correspondence
Sold out from under us To The Guardian
Aditya Chakrabortty is spot on that austerity is about privatising everything we own. But not only by the state. It is happening everywhere at a local level. The cinema on Kensington High Street where I saw Saturday morning flicks for a tanner has been sold to build luxury flats. The school I and my children attended, Holland Park comprehensive, sold half its footprint for luxury flats. Kensington and Chelsea FE College recently agreed to sell its site off Portobello Road, where I worked for 25 years, for luxury flats. The professional development centre I used in Ladbroke Grove was sold to a private prep school.
Now the library I have used for 40 years, built by public subscription in 1891, will be sold to another private prep school. The Conservative-run Kensington and Chelsea council, the richest in the country, was or is involved in each of these sales and planning decisions. Neil Ferguson, London
Jane Bond To The Times
It is gratifying to read that MI5 is seeking to recruit women of a certain age, citing their life experiences in coping with difficulties and relationships as qualifying attributes. However, I wonder if it might come down to one very simple, yet significant quality for a “spook”. No one in our society is as invisible as a middle-aged woman. Michelle Garrett, Tunbridge Wells, Kent
Living in a machine age To The Guardian
Robots are not just for the future – the proving is already here and has been long under way. I regularly access my bank account electronically, compliantly scan my selections at the supermarket, check out the goods myself, fill up the car with petrol, recharge and dab my travel pass, stand dutifully to have my biometric mug scanned, fill in my tax return online, buy online, and am moving nearer to contactless transactions. Sold to me on the basis of control, economy,
convenience and flexibility, I have been programmed to conspire in the redundancy of fellow human workers and hasten the age of the machine. The tin man is here. Alan Gledhill, Leicester
How many migrants? To The Daily Telegraph
Reader Philip Barton appears pleased that five million immigrants expected by 2030 will generate tax revenue to look after our ageing population. What happens when the same five million reach retirement age? How many more immigrants will we need? Roger Andrews, Blandford, Dorset
England is jam-packed To The Guardian
Yanis Varoufakis has not understood the concern that thinking Brexiters have about uncontrolled immigration from the EU. It is not a temporary and manageable strain on public services. It is that if ONS and Eurostat projections are realised, even in part, England, which is already more densely populated than the Netherlands, would have to build the infrastructure to
accommodate several million more people. Stephen Plowden, London
Scotland’s dire anthem To The Oldie
Those who complain about God Save the Queen overlook its great redeeming feature – the fact that, at 40 seconds, it is by far the shortest anthem. The Marseillaise, by contrast, is twice as long, but at least it’s a rousing tune.
The onset of depression prevents me from timing the truly dreadful Flower of Scotland, with which the Scots lower the spirits of their teams before sporting fixtures. It has the rhythm of a dirge and words which rehearse a grievance going back to 1314. How sad is that? Is it any coincidence that since adopting it, Scottish rugby and football teams have seen a dramatic decline in their fortunes? Bring back Scotland the Brave and start winning again. Stephen Halliday, Cambridge
In the hot seat To The Times
In his amusing letter on giving new meanings to place names, Jonathan Scott refers to his favourite of Shoeburyness as being “the vague uncomfortable feeling you get when sitting on a seat that is still warm from somebody else’s bottom”. This brings back fond memories of my time as a “fag” at Uppingham in the harsh winter of 1963, and having to warm the cold lavatory seat, each morning, for my house captain.
And yes, the door did have to be kept open. William Warrack, Sheffield
A disfigured behind… To The Times
Jonathan Scott mentions Shoeburyness from The Meaning of Liff. Then, of course, there is Kettering: the marks left on your behind after sitting on a wicker chair. Chris Baker, Clavering, Essex
…is no liffing matter To The Times
The definition of the place name Epping cannot go unrecorded in the correspondence on The Meaning of Liff. It means attempting and failing to attract the attention of a waiter. It happens to me all the time. Nigel Scott, London
Odd couple To The Oldie
The Old Un’s Notes mentions some unlikely pairs of schoolfellows. Let me add another: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Adolf Hitler were contemporaries at the Realschule in Linz. Paul Winby, Andover, Hampshire