THE article on competitive sports struck a chord with me (Axing of competitive sports days is crazy, say parents, The Press, July 15).

For various reasons, my life until the age of eight was spent with my grandmother, who virtually brought me up.

She was a wonderfully kind old lady, but unused to young children as she had lived most of her life in India, where she had servants. Her three children went to boarding school from the age of six, having had ayahs from babyhood.

Nana spent all her time with me, and we played games together, or with other adult members of the family. I rarely saw my cousins, who lived far away.

The problem was that I was always allowed to win. I was only spoiled in that way, but I used to cry pitifully (apparently) if I lost a game, whether at cards, ludo or whatever. So, for the sake of peace and quiet, Heather was a constant winner.

I only realised much later what a disservice Nana had done me. I am a very bad loser.

I feel physically sick when I do, which is very nasty indeed for anyone who beats me, as well as making me furious with myself, yet unable to do anything about it.

As we play bridge quite regularly, I feel sure that our opponents think very badly of me, and I know my patient, good-loser husband agrees with them.

I would hate to think that other children do not learn as early as possible that life is about winning and losing, and grow up being able to do either with a good grace.

Learning to be a good loser is surely the sign of a well-rounded, mature and reasonable character I only wish I could claim to be like that!

Heather Causnett, Escrick Park Gardens, Escrick, York.