THE wafer-thin young man with the blue streak in his blond hair gazed, with the help of thick-lensed horn-rimmed spectacles, through the window of Taylor’s of Oxford, the robe makers in Cowley Road, a shop that no aspiring clerk in holy orders can afford to ignore. He sighed deeply.

“Anything wrong?” I asked, hoping for an momentous reply. Was he at the crossroads? Had he received ‘the call’? Was he about to give up holey jeans and stained sweatshirt for holy dog collar and spotless stock? Was this a future archbishop?

Alas, I had read too much into the scene. Imagination had run riot. He had been eyeing a robe fit for a bishop. The needlework was inspired; the cut, divine.

But it would be expensive, so buying it to use as a dressing gown would be an extravagance and folly (his words) – though he was sorely tempted to blow what diminishing cash reserves he had if there was the off-chance Taylor’s might be persuaded to sell it to him. I left him pondering.

THEY were kicking footballs and playing badminton in Bonn Square on Tuesday. It wasn’t a display of half-term boredom by some of our younger citizens, but a determined effort by the Oxfordshire Sports Partnership to encourage greater involvement in healthy activities by the fairer sex with their £371,000 Lottery-funded Active Women project.

Female community leaders Alison Thomson, chairman of Vale of White Horse Council, and Janet Carr, vice-chairman of South Oxfordshire District Council, turned up to help kick-start the event, while most dads left any action to their children, until...

The petite young woman in the England training strip and showing remarkable ball control skills was Rachel Yankey, the Arsenal Ladies and England footballer. She had been invited to launch the project.

Suddenly dads and grandads showed much more interest. Autographs were sought and Rachel obliged. Long-forgotten football skills were dusted down.

“You only need a pretty face to stir the keen sportsman into action,” said one grandmother with more than a hint of sarcasm as her husband lined up another pot at goal.

I HAD mixed feelings when invited to Peggy Barson’s retirement party at the New Theatre on Tuesday, an event attended by dozens, some travelling many miles to be there. Seventy-one years in the same job is rare. I for one will miss popping into the box office for a chat.

There were gifts galore, messages from luminaries in the theatre world and well-crafted speeches from colleagues.

Perhaps the New Theatre’s top man, Jamie Baskerfield, can persuade her to occasionally stand in as barmaid at the new Peggy Barson Bar in the circle. I wouldn’t put it past her to accept.