IT has long been my view that it is difficult to feel one’s age in Oxford. Many buildings are old. The city’s heart is forever young.

The influx of young visitors from far and wide this week have helped to supercharge it. Their tongues appeared to represent every country in the European Union and beyond, and the only English to be heard came from Americans (if that is English) and the Big Issue salesmen.

Yet enjoyment was everywhere as groups were led from place to place. Even the guides, umbrellas aloft but unopened, seemed less flustered than usual.

The feeling was universal: it’s a wonderful life and it’s great to be alive.

There were many occasions to prove the point, none more so than in Hawkins’ Bazaar, the Queen Street shop for the eternally young. New to the shelves was the talking hamster. This fluffy object is activated by pressing its paw and then speaking to it. The message is returned, followed by a flow of unexpected words.

Children would have loved it – had they been able to get near. The display was surrounded by five seasoned adults – all male – testing the toy and chuckling like four-year-olds.

I joined them, preventing any real four-year-olds from getting near.

ONE could have expected to hear objections as a chap, in his mid-20s and well over 6ft, pounded down Cornmarket Street on his skateboard.

He didn’t give an inch, while young and old leaped clear. Yet there wasn’t an audible word of protest, until...

A familiar face emerged from WH Smith’s. He stared after the skateboarder.

“If it was raining they'd have dragged him off and fed him to the pigeons,” he said, attributing tolerance to the weather.

His wife stepped in before he could add more gloom.

“Take no notice of Matthew – he was born miserable,” she announced for all to hear. “Ask who fell off our grandson’s skateboard when he was showing off, thinking he was six and not 60. He hurt his ankle and has disliked them ever since.”

It was then ‘grumpy grandad’ unleashed a smile.

BUT – why is there always a but? – spare a thought for the young woman from one of the Baltic states who had come to England to escape personal cruelty and abuse.

There was only sadness in her eyes as she pulled her wheeled suitcase containing all her belongings across Bonn Square.

She cut a sad lonely figure, afraid to accept help or sympathy for fear of more abuse, something she had already experienced in another part of the country.

Here was someone who found it difficult to be young in Oxford.