HAD I witnessed the end of a romance? Had my words caused it?

There was only one seat vacant downstairs on the park-and-ride bus from Pear Tree. This was facing the rear five-seater, part occupied by a couple, circa 25-30. She was extremely pretty and he was a handsome chap.

Their disagreement had obviously begun earlier. The atmosphere was charged, his lips pursed, her face turned to the window.

We were in Woodstock Road before either spoke. “Be reasonable,” he pleaded. “We’ve stayed with your mum and dad for the past two Christmases. This year is a special one for my dad.”

“Your family always argues and I told you I wouldn’t go again after last time,” she said firmly. Sharp words were exchanged intermittently down Woodstock Road, each pressing their argument only to have it knocked back by the other. Soon we arrived in Magdalen Street. She stood up preparing to push between us.

“What do you think?” he said with a defeated shrug, correctly assuming I’d heard all. I was embarrassed but couldn’t escape.”Not my business” seemed a cop out. We always chose to stay at home with the children. It saved argument,” I explained.

Silence, broken only when she glared down at me. “But he doesn’t want any kids yet!” she announced before storming off the bus.

Oh dear…

* TO see Margaret without her husband Don was a surprise. Joined at the hip is a fair description of this cheerful couple.

“I’ve just seen men acting stupidly and I thought of you,” she said loudly, causing Queen Street to cast a mass accusing glance in my direction.

“Oh yes,” I said trying to protect my dignity.

Margaret spent all her working life in one or another Oxford store and expects good behaviour in public. She had been walking from home in Botley Road, it was raining hard and her umbrella was open. In front was a man of about 20, also sporting an umbrella and the pair approached the footpath tunnel below the railway bridge.

From the opposite direction came another brolly-bearing young man. Seeing them, he dashed into the tunnel leaving his umbrella open. The man in front of Margaret made no attempt to close his and within seconds they were nose to nose, ordering each other to give way. “What did you do?” I asked.

“I told ‘em to b***** grow up or I’d use Don’s golfing umbrella on their heads,” she said. They obeyed.

Rain can sharpen aggression in all of us.

* CYCLOON of the Week: “But the public doesn’t walk quickly enough.” – A young female student’s comment when told she shouldn’t ride her cycle in Cornmarket Street after 10am.