Grammar schools do help poor families

Grammar schools do improve social mobility and help those from poorer backgrounds, despite what a local Labour councillor says (Letters, September 17). Back in the late 1950s in God’s own city of Bradford, there was a boy from a poor family who won a direct grant scholarship to go to Bradford Boys Grammar.

His new school uniform and equipment had to be bought by his wonderful auntie and uncle.

Every Monday after school, he had to go to the town hall to sign for and collect a few shillings to help his parents. His dark brown school blazer was the only one of its type among the long queue of other grammar and secondary modern uniforms.

That same boy now stares back at me in the shaving mirror, so let’s keep political dogma out of education.

Geoff Robb Hunters Close Dunnington

Holiday Inn staff bowled us over

On Saturday the lady bowlers of York had their annual luncheon and prizegiving at the Holiday Inn. May I, through the letters page, just thank the chef and staff of the hotel for the nice meal and the friendliness of the ladies who served the meal. This was the first time the luncheon has been held at the Holiday Inn and I am sure the ladies enjoyed the afternoon there.

Maureen Robinson, Broadway, York

Poetic words for the changing season

The nights are drawing in and with early morning mist, it’s starting to feel “a bit backendish”.

The trees and hedgerows are full of fruits and berries and leaves are starting to change colour and wilt, the morning grass is damp and covered in dew, it’s starting to “look backendish”.

The hot sticky nights are replaced by cooler dark nights but still warm days, it’s starting to “feel backendish”.

The wasps are out on their end-of-life rampage through our gardens, “it’s getting a lot backendish”.

Reading lights on at 8pm, our summer clothing put away with shops full of winter stuff, with raincoats and umbrellas at the ready, “it’s starting to be backendish”.

Swallows off to warmer climes, the last bank holiday of the year come and gone, the clocks will soon be altering, winter draws nigh, “my it is backendish”.

D M Deamer, Penleys Grove Street, Monkgate, York