IN THE autumn of 1968, I was invited to represent the new University of York department of language at a town-and-gown reception held at the Mansion House by York City Council.
I was introduced to a man who was called, I believe, Mr Evans, the town clerk, as he informed me. He asked me how I liked living in York and especially what I thought of Monk Stray, the west end of which was then, as now, broadly visible from our bedroom window. I said I couldn’t imagine a better location, but thought the Stray needed a little fundamental care and attention.
In an avuncular gesture, he put his arm around me and said: “Son, if that land were worth anything, it wouldn’t be there today.” All of this was brought back to mind when I learned with horror of the attempts of council plans to create a kind of civic funfair on the stray and on similar tracts of parkland around the city.
To their credit, at a meeting of the full council, these proposals were rejected out of hand and a simple one-day event to mark the passage of the Tour de France through York was agreed as acceptable.
David Reibel, Elmfield Terrace, York.
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