Alison Boulton digs beneath the city's dreaming spires

Street parties are just that: a communal knees up with pennants flying.

We’re lucky in our neighbours: over many years we’ve become good friends. Our street – Beech Croft Road, Summertown – has both newborns and octogenarians. It has visitors and long-term occupants. It attracts residents both local and from abroad. It has teenagers whom we’ve known since toddlers, and a tolerant give and take attitude to the inexorable phases of life.

We’ve all been there – or will go there in time. Good natured tolerance is all.

This year’s summer street party featured a Freecycle and book stall, organised by Jean Williams, the Oxford based founder of Emmaus, the homeless charity. Some books will travel as far as the Himalayas, for Indian street children for whom daily survival is the fiercest test and books we discard are a rareity.

Table tennis tables were set up. A treasure hunt followed, testing us all with tricks and twists.

Lunch was a communal affair. I brought pizza, but there were strawberries and cherries, brownies and bread, chicken and guacamole – and lots of salads, crisps and chat.

Next a tug of war, and an egg catching contest – eggs provided by a householder, but cheers provided by all. Then the ice cream van – a regular visitor to our street – appeared with free ice creams for everyone. Delicious! I had a Mr Whippy with flake. A giant electric Noddy car glided down the street. You could have a go. Why should children have all the fun?

Shortly afterwards it was time to take sides – or take cover – as an American Civil War Supersoaker battle took place between the North and South side of the street. Hoards of children (friends of friends of friends) marauded up and down aiming their water pistols at each other . They attempted to capture the flag by squirting the flag bearer ’til he dropped it. The victorious Unionists seized the bounty of Revels. Ted Dewan, whose Bing books are now a CBBC series, addressed the wet troops as Abraham Lincoln. His Government by the People, for the People speech went down with a cheer. As things began to wind down, the Magic Man appeared with his fiery tricks.

Suddenly, magically, a wedding party appeared. As they strolled the length of the street, the bride’s veil lifted, revealing her lovely face, lit with delight.

The children parted and the Magic Man stood to one side, as the audience applauded and the wedding party smiled and nodded their thanks.

Then the event many adults had fondly anticipated from first light: technicolour, knock-out cocktails expertly mixed by a veteran neighbour. He’d find it hard to shirk this duty: the street expects...

In the warm evening that followed, tables were carried out, and candles lit as the residents, old and young, dined outside their houses and flats, in clusters of good humour and enjoyment.

The moon was long up, before the last candle was snuffed out. Now that’s what I call neighbourliness. Not just for us, but for any visitor to the street – and beyond.