YOUR article on Edinburgh’s St James Centre development (“The beast is slain, now St James beauty is rising from the rubble”, March 27) describes the site as “mostly hidden from public view”. Oh, that that were so, and that beauty was rising from the rubble. The centrepiece ribbon hotel is described by the developer as “a coquettish Victorian lady”. A far more accurate description was given by the author Candia McWilliam (in a letter to the Herald in 2015) who described it as resembling “nothing so much as what citizens are coyly enjoined to pick up after their dogs”.

That remains a very apt, if undeservedly delicate, description of the building. But what is becoming clear is that, as the far-from-hidden concrete lift shaft core of the hotel rises into the sky, the finished hotel will have a massive and widespread visual impact on the city.

The hotel’s lift shaft is already clearly visible from George Street, rising well above the roof of RBS’s Dundas House. And from Inverleith Park the lift shaft now appears to be just about the level of the National Monument on Calton Hill.

The roof of the completed hotel structure will be at least as high as the top of the lift shaft, and the swirling tip of the tacky Trumpesque gold “ribbon” is to rise well above the roof. This means that the hotel with its “ribbon” will dominate eastward views along George Street, and it will compete in height with Arthur’s Seat in views of the city’s historic skyline from the north. Many other precious views of the city centre from near and far will also be despoiled.

The project’s developer and architect will be forever damned by the people of Edinburgh for the damage they are about to inflict on the city’s skyline. But the councillors who gave the hotel planning consent will be doubly damned for failing in their duty to protect the city.

Surely now, when they can see this early evidence of their negligence, the councillors will realise the extent of their folly. But is it too much to hope that they will then try to reduce the damage by working with their planners to try to persuade the developer to scrap the “ribbon” and give the building an external appearance more in keeping with a World Heritage site?

It would still be far too high but, stripped of the gold “ribbon” twisting high into the sky, it would not be quite so high; nor would it be so grotesquely tacky. The chances of getting a change may be slim, but that is no reason for the guilty councillors not to try to reduce, even just a little, the damage to Edinburgh which is otherwise to be inflicted by their ill-considered decision.

Alistair Easton,

6 Glencairn Crescent,

Edinburgh.

Secrets of the pregnant prefix

CONTRIBUTORS to the Letters Pages have remarked on some of the common errors in the use of grammar and syntax. Beginning a sentence with “so” has been amongst the indicated errors. Ian Cooper (Letters, March 23) again brings the error to our attention. Except, in my case, as with Hugh McLoughlin (March 28) I am happy to use “so” to begin a sentence, when I think it suits my purpose.

There is an interesting Point Of View talk on Radio 4 by Adam Gopnik, and which can be accessed by search engine. I entered “Adam Gopnik – pregnant prefix” and then selected castbox.fm from the choices. There you hear him giving his nine-minute talk on the subject of “so” – the pregnant prefix together with other pregnant prefixes which people, famous and not, use with confidence.

Another delightful turn of phrase, much used by my late sister-in-law (and Virginia Woolf), “this is it”, caused my husband to be driven into fits of apoplexy. I wonder, if she had said,”So, this is it” would all have been well?

Thelma Edwards,

Old Comrades Hall, Hume, Kelso.