GET TOUGH: THE tragic story highlighting the premature death of a young drug user (Echo, Apr 30) no doubt has caused much sympathy and even empathy.
Sadly, though, in the same edition we see a woefully inadequate sentence handed down to an individual suspected of active drug dealing.
Police endeavour to bring these low life to justice only to see, all too frequently, ridiculously lenient sentences which do not punish, deter or rehabilitate.
These criminals have nothing to lose, community service is a joke. If you want to do the community a service, put many more of these people in prison.
May I suggest prisons without TVs, without a better standard of living than many hard-working families struggling on the minimum wage.
Sadly, I think we have lost the battle. I hope I am wrong. Solutions please. - Robert Bridgett, Shildon.
GOOD COUNCIL: I WAS very interested to read (Echo, Apr 28) the article on Redcar seafront. I frequently drive to South Gare and always drove into Redcar along the seafront.
However, I have not been to Redcar for ages, as I found driving over the rumble strips really unpleasant.
I did write to the council just out of interest and it did reply that the strips were proving unpopular.
Good to read they are taking action. It is so good to read of a council listening to the public concern and actually taking action on the side of the public. - Joyce Rutter, Richmond.
UNDER ONE ROOF: WITH regard to Richmond District Council\rquote s move to Colburn. Wouldn't the convent building have served the purpose they sought?
All departments under one roof, adequate car parking within the grounds for staff and visitors alike. Highways and planning could also have been incorporated within the building.
This would have made more sense than using the building to swell the population and increase traffic congestion, and where on earth is the employment in the Richmond area for incomers? - GH Grieveson, Richmond.
HITCHHIKER'S PRIDE THE 1960s were a great time to be a hitchhiker. It was at the start of the motorway age and most travel was still by ' a road'.
As a serviceman in the RAF, my journey took me from Suffolk to the Midlands. Every journey was different: sometimes you could get a lift straight through, or on other occasions you would depend on five or six lifts. I have fond memories of tramping across Newmarket Heath through a grey autumnal mist and I have seen the glories of Cambridge on a brilliant May morning.
The thing never to forget as a hitchhiker was the kindness of the driver in letting you into his world, albeit for a brief period of time. Many drivers actually diverted off their planned route to make my progress easier. Some treated me to a much-needed meal at a roadside cafe Communication with the driver was vital; you quickly adapted your social skills so that your host was comfortable with your company.
There were many delights of hitchhiking, not least the freedom of the open road, and the sheer unpredictability of the journey. Your travel was not dictated by railway timetables; for a brief transient time you were as free as the birds in the sky.
I'm grateful to Ruth Campbell (Echo, Apr 28) for her column on hitchhiking, and for the fact that I was able to journey by such means during a decade when it was relatively safe to do so. - Derek Parker, Bishop Auckland.
THREAT TO CITY: I WOULD like to congratulate Mr Peter Jefferies concerning his recent letter (HAS, Apr 30) awarding Durham City Council a vast array of White Elephant trophies for its consistency in useless projects.
The money invested into the council's major eyesore, the Gala Theatre, with its less than scintillating acts and even less than adequate cinema, would have been better invested into revamping the existing theatres and the existing cinema, instead of producing this hideous building which fails to blend into the rest of the city's architecture.
Please, no more ridiculous follies such as this, along with the vast plague of so called ' theme bars' especially in North Road. You are slowly eroding the aura of this great city with the introduction of your less than wondrous ideas for modernisation and increasing profit margins. - Alan Paily, Durham.
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OIL RESERVES: WHEN war was declared on Hitler's Germany, it was by no means certain which side would win, bearing in mind that Hitler had been preparing for war for several years.
Whereas, when the West went to war against Iraq, with weaponry, as well as first-class professional soldiers, it was going to be a one-horse race.
Of course, in all wars, soldiers are sure to get killed and thousands of Iraqi civilians, innocent women and children included, were killed, with missile attacks on Iraq.
And were it not for those huge oil reserves in and around Iraq, America would never have even contemplated war against Iraq.
As early as 1932, America was conscious of the importance of Middle-East oil, particularly to herself, at present the greatest consumer in the world of gasoline. - Alfred H Lister, Guisborough.
PARKING BLUES:
I HAVE now read twice in The Northern Echo that council leader John Williams states that Grange Road is full of short-term shoppers rather than long stay commuters.
As far as I can recall, Grange Road had restricted parking long before the meters were installed.
So the council has made a profit of £112,000 since the charges were introduced. I would like to know where they intend to spend this. Will they be reimbursing some of the businesses for lost trade? - Janet Wilkinson, Darlington.
IT WAS TOM: THE mystery man with the large white moustache featured in "College film find reveals insight into town history" (Echo, May 3) is Tom Watson, one of the North's great all-round sportsmen of Victorian times. In the mid-19th century he was captain of Darlington Cricket Club and, in October 1863, he and several other cricket club officials formed Darlington Rugby Club, which is the seventh oldest in England.
The Watson family had a saddlery business in Tubwell Row, but I believe Tom worked in a bank for most of his life. He died in 1935 at the age of 95. - Bob Jackson, President, Darlington RFC.
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