Ban for banner not right
Three weeks ago, a friend was denied public access through St John’s shopping centre by a security guard. The reason was because it was seen as “private property.”
My friend had a banner with the words “Jesus said I am the way, the truth and the life” with him and other statements of the Christian faith.
What I would like to know is would the security guards at St John’s Centre ban access to Muslim women who wear hijabs covering their faces and bodies, which is just as threatening to the public, particularly because Muslim fundamentalists now disguise themselves in hijabs to hide their suicide bombs, or to Muslim men, or Hindus or to the Sikhs who have their daggers to protect them in self-defence?
It seems “no” is the answer. The policy would not exclude the above from private property through St John’s. Only the Christian would be excluded, as we have witnessed.
This policy is endemic of the double standards of secularism and targets Christianity without understanding it properly.
Christianity is a peaceful faith and tells us to bless our enemies as well as our friends (Romans Ch 12 v 14). Jesus Christ is the Prince of Peace (John Ch 14 v 27, Ch 16 v 33).
It seems our freedoms enshrined in the Magna Carta have been eroded and ignored at the expense of political correctness.
Thank God and thank goodness Christians are the “salt” of society and are there to stop the rot, no matter which part of Preston or the UK in which we live or travel.
Name and address supplied
Scruffs letting down district
I live in the All Saints area of Deepdale. Since Buy to Let and the elderly have moved away (letters June 2), no pride is taken to keep outside their area clean. No one knows how to use a brush. If they do, rubbish is just swept off the pavements. Do they not know how to pick it up and put it in the bin? They need educating.
Round the flower beds on St Stephens Road and round the trees in the area is a disgrace. Weed the flower beds or put stones on them. They’re full of weeds or, better still, take them away.
We have a lot to put up with in this area and it’s not fair to the people who try to keep it nice. They clean their cars and just chuck it out.
Schoolchildren chuck drink bottles, half-eaten pies in foil and half-eaten sandwiches in plastic all over the area in their playground.
It just blows under the railings down our streets and gathers at the bottom of St Georges Road.
The welfare assistant needs educating to learn to tell them to put their rubbish in the bin. This area is dirty and a disgrace and don’t blame the council, it’s the dirty people who live in it.
This used to be a beautiful clean area. Some of the streets are filthy now, thanks to the people who moved into the area.
Name and address supplied
Life amid shale gas industry
The reality of living with fracking is not something most people would want to do. Unless you have to because you work there. Or can’t sell your house. The problems start with the politicians. Then the landowners. Then the seismic crews. Then the road crews, the drilling rigs, the frack truck convoys. Then comes the heavy stuff – the wells themselves, the gathering lines to hook them up, the gas processing plants, the gas compressors, tank batteries and the gas transmissions lines.
And hey ho! You’re living in a heavily industrialised shale gas field. I don’t think the good people of beautiful little Plumpton and tranquil Roseacre envisaged living in an industrial zone.
Jean King, Freckleton
How music lit up the world
How easy it is today to demand more and get more. Music is everywhere pouring out of sounddocks, iPods, tablets and MP3 players and yet I find there is still joy to be had from a diamond needle and a disc spinning its socks off at 78rpm.
Radiograms and record players where once all there was in terms of teenage entertainment until powering its way on to the scene came the portable magnetic tape recorder purchased on ‘easy terms’ budding young pop stars could now get their act together and groups and their music reached the ears of A&R men sat in offices mainly in London.
Suddenly an exciting new world had opened up and nearly every kid on the street had some connection with music be it a tea chest, broom handle and a length of string or a battered old Spanish guitar later to be exchanged for a ‘Strat’. Everyone seemed to be writing songs and on hot days parlour windows open to let in some air let out the strains of the next would-be number one.
There was no Simon Cowell but there was a massive amounts of new talent sufficiently inspired to buy a carton of cold milk at London Road Station (now Piccadilly) and overnight get their music to the capital – where West End bangers and beans sustained many a young writer hawking their work.
Names now forgotten helped young artists on to the first rung of a thrilling ladder. Some went on to great fame while others became one-hit wonders – either way, the tape recorder brought pure magic to a dull post-war world and with it teenagers everywhere responded big time.
Joseph G Dawson, Withnell, Chorley
Posting out an odd message
I went along to the Post Office today with some letters to post, one to Switzerland and one to Northern Ireland.
The person behind the country proceeded to stick an Airmail sticker on the letter to Northern Ireland.
I asked him why it needed an Airmail sticker with a second class stamp on it when it was only going to Northern Ireland. He asked the guy next to him and was told he didn’t know!
He said Northern Ireland was like Netherlands. How come? He then said he couldn’t read my writing.
Maybe they should employ some intelligent people in the post office then many letters would not go missing!
Name and address supplied