I DON’T believe he was drunk; had he been, there might have been some excuse for his behaviour. The plain truth is he was – and I venture to say still is – a yob. He sat, feet up, on a bench in Queen Street, his pose designed to deter anyone from sitting alongside. Filthy jeans and shapeless jacket and with his baseball cap perched back to front on a mop of red hair, he chewed and swore constantly – except when coughing and spitting, the latter causing people to leap out of range.

An elegant female cyclist of ripe years rode by, her handlebars-mounted basket bearing what appeared to be several well-wrapped gifts.

She shouldn’t have been on her machine as time restrictions applied. This gave him opportunity to deliver a stream of foul-mouthed venom, suggesting she was too old to be allowed out without supervision. She realised her mistake, dismounted and apologised.

But this didn’t shut him up. She moved on embarrassed and clearly distressed.

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No sooner had she disappeared into New Inn Hall Street than two youngish male cyclists appeared, riding by at speed. He said not a word.

“What about those two?” I said angrily, harking back to his treatment of the woman. “Didn’t they deserve the same?”

“And risk a f****** thumping? I’m not stupid... and you can p*** off!” he concluded.

Clearly his métier was caution rather than courtesy.

‘WOULD you like a drink?” The offer came from Chelsey Ullah, a pretty student from the City of Oxford College, standing in the shadow of the Westgate Centre portico.

It was timely if not alcoholic – a fruit cocktail, sparkling and fresh. Chelsey was part of a 50-plus team from the college’s healthy and social care course, doing their best to encourage the public to watch their liquor intake over the festive season. They even handed out recipes for several alcohol-free tipples.

In return for the drink I had to fill in a questionnaire asking me to predict my booze behaviour this Christmas. Let’s hope I stick to the moderate proposed schedule. If I’d thought about it, I could have asked the young team and their tutor Claudette Maharaj about their projected yuletide intakes. It could have made interesting reading.

MEANWHILE only yards away in New Road Baptist Church the Christmas spirit was launched with a lunch for some of the regulars who see the place as a welcome haven for the elderly and the lonely.

More than 40 sat down to a Christmas dinner with all the trimmings and even a visit from Father Christmas – or rather Mother Christmas in the person of the minister, the Rev Kat Bracewell. And why not? The Church of England appointed its first woman bishop earlier in the day.