HAVING also been unfortunate enough to have spent my formative years in Aylesbury, Bucks, may I congratulate Tabitha Troughton for revealing the town's ugliness in her novel Animals ("An everyday tale of sex...", 8 February). It's not surprising to me that she had to write a fictional account of life there. The hell of factual Aylesbury cannot easily be expressed.
Rather than catalogue the many instances of violence and small-mindedness that occur there, may I instead remind citizens of the town that there are (albeit inadequate) bus and train services that depart on a daily basis. After 10 years away from the place, the very name "Aylesbury" still fills me with dread.