Writing this column has resulted in me receiving letters and telephone calls from people I thought I'd never hear from again.

Recently, I was surprised to receive such a call from a former colleague, who now runs a busy B&B off Fulford Road. Olga, as she likes to be known, told me that some of her guests of Middle Eastern origin had complained that they had been unable to obtain "a reasonably priced plain English meal" in York after about 10pm. They had said that they did not want to eat in a "pub atmosphere", and had tried many restaurants, within walking distance of her premises, but none could, or would, provide what they considered to be a suitable meal.

Although now rarely venturing into town at night to eat, I was astonished by this revelation, as it has always been my belief that York was a Mecca for the gourmets and gourmands of the world - a city crammed with restaurants, catering for every taste.

The Evening Press 'Eating Out' correspondents never seem to be at a loss for somewhere different to sample what York's cosmopolitan restaurateurs have to offer.

But, of course, Olga's guests, strangers to York could, understandably, have difficulty in finding an "English" restaurant, among the multitude of American, Chinese, French, Greek, Indian, Italian, Mediterranean, Mexican and Thai restaurants, and take-away establishments, we have in York.

I'm not complaining; Jean and I enjoy experimenting with exotic dishes, and like nothing better than a Chinese banquet for two, but our favourite restaurant - sadly not visited for far too long - is, without doubt, The Mount Royale. Mind you, I would be reluctant, to send a ravenous band of travel-worn tourists there for a late-night meal, without first having made a reservation.

My best advice, Olga, is to be guided by the Evening Press's 'professional' food tasters; you can't go far wrong with them. Or give your late arriving Moslem guests a supper of mutton stew to sustain them until they get one of your full English breakfasts (less bacon), before they set off to explore York in the friendly light of day.

Women have served with distinction in the British Army since the First World War as members of the Women's Auxiliary Army Corps, the Auxiliary Territorial Service, and the Women's Royal Army Corps; however, since the 1980s their role has been changing. Now, no longer restricted to non-combat roles, they have become integrated into almost every branch of the Armed Forces.

The "weaker" sex are already serving in warships, piloting fighter aircraft, driving tanks, manning artillery batteries, and now the Ministry of Defence plans to lift the ban on them serving with front-line infantry regiments.

Government ministers might see the recruitment of women as an option for filling the Army's 5,000 vacancies. But battle-experienced veterans don't agree. To them, a woman at their side in combat would not only be a distraction, but a liability. To survive, men in action need to focus on what they are there to do, and not be diverted by sharing a foxhole with a "deadly" female.

Anyway, hasn't enough taxpayers' money already been paid out in settling sexual harassment claims?

Bangs and flashes, reminiscent of the London blitz, disturbed an otherwise peaceful evening in Acomb last Monday. A premature celebration of Guy Fawkes Night, I thought, but surely not, for didn't those who sell fireworks informally agree not to sell them until after October 15?

Then it struck me: perhaps fans of the Beatles were marking the occasion of what would have been John Lennon's 60th birthday. Well, why not - after all, far stranger events have been the cause for celebration in the past.