Loosely speaking, I was stood up. Josephine, my favourite soprano from Witney who busks in Oxford when she is not studying in Manchester, hadn’t promised to be in Cornmarket Street on Tuesday morning – but I lived in hope.

Her beautiful voice is guaranteed to brighten even the brightest day – and Tuesday was already bright.

The coffee corner outside St Michael’s at the NorthgateChurch seemed a reasonable place to wait, just in case she appeared. A cup of tea and an Eccles cake were ordered and I took a seat at one of the tables.

Immediately, I was surrounded by a flock of frantic pigeons all demanding my attention, or rather the flakes from the disintegrating cake that fell around my feet.

It was inevitable that Stan, retired postman and politically incorrect would-be comedian, should be there to peer through the railings.

“Wait ‘til I tell our gang in the Covered Market caff I caught you surrounded by a dozen birds,” he said loud enough for the passing throng to turn and look. Disappointment followed. They were expecting an alfresco orgy of sorts.

All I could do was smile, although I did think about throwing the rest of the Eccles cake and the quickly cooling tea at his grinning face.

THREE tour guides were steering parties through the Old Schools Quadrangle while a noisy hoist was being operated to raise a workman skywards in his bid to clean the lofty windows. There must have been about 50 visitors eager to learn more about the place.

The signs requesting silence were redundant especially as the guides had to raise their voices over the noise of the hoist. However, I doubt if anyone in the Bodleian would have complained Suddenly a baby girl of five months, carried by a young Chinese mother, began to cry.

Lunch time was approaching and lunch comes before learning in their dictionary when you’re 20 weeks old. Two couples, all with North American accents, began to mutter and stare at the child.

“Someone should tell its mom to keep the kid quiet – or leave,” said one of the men, making no attempt to hide his unkind comments. “It wouldn’t be allowed in study areas back home.”

So much for the Land of the Free!

YOU shouldn’t wish your life away – birthdays come around too quickly as it is – but I can hardly wait for Monday.

The reason is Tom Stoppard’s brilliant play, Arcadia, opens for the week at Oxford Playhouse. It won the Olivier Award and was recently voted one of the country’s top five plays.

If a witty script and a story with a twist is what you want, this is it.