I was surprised to read that city councillor Ed Turner claimed that he had been gagged by fellow councillor Tony Hollander at the recent strategic development control meeting after having been refused permission to speak under the new council rules (Oxford Mail, May 27).

At least he now knows how frustrating it is to turn up at meetings and not be allowed to speak or question officers who are able to speak freely.

Of course, the residents in Rose Hill want to see the 'Orlits' demolished and replaced with decent modern homes, but not at the expense of 70 units per hectare.

The Government norm is 30-40 units per hectare.

We expected a regeneration scheme that incorporated play areas for young children and open spaces for the youth and adults, a site for a clinic and doctors' surgeries and possibly the refurbishment of the community centre. None of these were catered for. On other estates, this had been the norm and had been taken for granted as being essential.

I was surprised when outline planning approval was given, especially as there were many questions and grey areas which should have been resolved before the applications were submitted.

What makes councillors think that these obstacles will be resolved at the detail design stage, when both Oxford Citizens Housing Association and Oxford City Housing Services have known about them for more than a year?

After the Cornmarket fiasco, I would have thought councillors would be cautious and realise the seriousness of granting outline approval based on 'promises' by the applicant.

As for the design, the crime prevention officer was very critical of the layout and commented "that the proposal does not accord with established principles for crime prevention and the creation of safer places, as set out in Government advice and adopted council policies".

Thames Water suggested that the foul water drains be connected to the northern sewers. This would be an uphill (excuse the pun) task, which the designers have rightly said is not feasible.

Even the planning services design rules have been compromised, as there are many dwelling units without a space for a car.

To rub salt in the wound, the would-be developers will be asked to make various contributions, much of the cash going into the coffers of the county council to improve its schools and libraries in Littlemore and Blackbird Leys.

We are heading towards and creating 'another fine mess'.

VIM RODRIGO

Rivermead Road, Rose Hill, Oxford

LET'S PREPARE FOR

ANOTHER FINE MESS SIR -- So your cycling correspondent, James Styring, says he had a dream (Oxford Mail, May 31).

Speaking as a dedicated cyclist but also a driver, I can tell him that vehicle drivers, of all sorts, have a dream as well.

It is one in which cyclists stop at red lights, don't ride on the path and all use lights at night -- in fact, obeying the commonsense rules of the road. Yes, Utopian, is it not?

However, please don't make the comment/excuse, however true, that a ton or so of vehicle will cause more damage than an errant cycle. We are part of the traffic, and proper integration and behaviour is the only way to being treated with respect.

The county council spokesman who thinks that road narrowing will make motorists treat cyclists with respect (Oxford Mail, June 1), is living in Cloud Cuckoo Land.

SEUMAS LEAHY

Jerome Way

Shipton-on-Cherwell

Cabbages June 3

SHE was honest enough to admit it was only her second unsupervised week as one of our nation's fast-growing army of Community Police Support Officers.

"I don't like to get on the wrong side of people if they're not upsetting anyone," she confided.

Her dilemma was a car, displaying disabled stickers, and parked on double yellow lines in a back street.

"I saw the driver walk off. He was very lame. But it's been here for at least 20 minutes and I'm sure there's some rule about a time limit. I ought to know. Perhaps I should ring the office. You don't happen to know, do you?"

Flattered as well as surprised, I confessed this aspect of the Road Traffic Act and its attendant regulations were a closed book.

She peered down the street. The driver was not in view.

"I'd like to turn a blind eye. After all, I'm not a traffic warden. The car isn't blocking anything or anybody. On the other hand, I don't want people to get the wrong idea," she added.

I suggested no-one would 'get the wrong idea' for her decidedly unstrained quality of mercy.

Encouraged by this, she decided to call back later and take some sort of action then -- if necessary.

A second encounter with this remarkable rookie came next morning. I was going to ask about the previous day's problem when a stranger approached and asked if he could borrow her pen. She obliged -- and he made off at speed around the corner.

Was that wise? I suggested.

"He has an honest face," she judged. "You have to trust people sometimes."

Several minutes later, the man returned -- pen and all. He also presented her with a bar of chocolate for her kindness.

"Told you so," she said triumphantly.

And what about the car?

"It had gone when I got back," she said. "The driver had probably been held up in the shops. It can happen to anyone, can't it?"

THE Tricel-trousered and showerproof-jacketed legions are on the move again.

Women of a certain age and above, are about in droves -- or rather in luxury coaches -- as the weather improves.

Spot them at roadside cafs and motorway service stations, taking a break before an assault on some stately home, arboretum, large garden centre or country park.

There might be men in the party, but they pale into insignificance as the women take over.

The M40 services near Wheatley had several such groups of customers -- and two of these were wanting refreshments at the same time.

"Where is the milk?" one woman asked the harassed staff, failing to spot a large bowl of those small containers right under her nose.

"Is it semi-skimmed?" queried a second, spectacles on her forehead, while trying to make out the writing on those plastic pots.

"Has Phyllis ordered my decaffeinated?" called another, who had established HQ at a table for six by spreading handbags, shopping bags, cardigans and telescopic umbrellas.

"That little woman pushed in before Madge -- and she's not with us," said another, in a voice that could be heard 20 miles away.

The 'little woman' turned and glowered. Her cold expression could have frosted glass.

"Where has Enid got to?" a natural day-out organiser called Emily demanded to know.

"She's in the toilet," chorused three fellow travellers, ensuring all heads turned when the missing, and now red-faced, Enid emerged.

Suddenly, Emily and her opposite number, a younger and less strident woman called Jill, urged their parties to return to their coaches. Time was pressing.

After all, it was a matter of pride to reach the next stopping place ahead of the other groups.

MANY thanks to reader Roland Huckin, of Tumbling Bay Court, Oxford, for pointing out the sign over a shop in the Covered Market -- a place where he suggests, and I admit, I spend a lot of time.

'Keys cut accurately' it reads, prompting a response from Roland that they would not be much use if they were cut inaccurately! By Peter Unsworth

r

"CAN I help?" the girl in a Cornmarket Street travel agents asked the elderly yet decidedly young-at-heart couple.

The man chuckled while his wife retained a straight face and explained.

"I want three weeks in a really posh hotel overlooking the marina in Monte Carlo with everybody running around after me and driving me to the Casino to gamble away thousands. He wants a month on Celebrity Love Island. But bearing in mind I can't afford my dream holiday and his would kill him inside two days, what have you got self-catering in Majorca in late August?