NOT a boat in sight. Not a lock gate to open. Not a water level to be checked. But Osney lock keeper Ray Riches had not succumbed to having his feet up.

Knee-padded, he was repainting all things white on the paths, steps and edges of the lock, part of making sure his spot on the river lives up to the high standard we have learned to expect since he took over 10 years ago.

Readers may recall that last year Ray played a vital role in trying to save a wheelchair-bound man who had fallen into the river. For that he rightly received a commendation from the police area commander.

Gardener, painter, lifeguard, information officer, peacekeeper when those landlocked admirals who troll the Thames get over-excited – we expect a lot from our lock keepers. I hope their bosses appreciate them.

Thanks, Ray.

SOMEONE is going to be killed.” This gloomy forecast came from a smart young man wearing cricket flannels and a blazer and an MCC tie. He was possibly a member, but seemed rather on the young side although his appearance was more akin to the age of Bertie Wooster.

We had emerged from Botley Road into the bombsite that is Frideswide Square. He pointed in the direction of where traffic lights once ruled.

“These painted roundabouts are a death trap,” he continued. “When do pedestrians have right of way? Who gives way?”

I suggested we might wait until the work was finished and then judge. But he was not interested.

“Try telling that to the families of the killed or injured,” he said.

My immediate problem was to find the bus stop from which I could bus to the other side of the city. It does seem to be a question of every man (or woman) for themself.

THERE’S no pleasing some people – especially younger members of one’s family. There was criticism from my sons when I bought a trendy sports car.

“It’s too low – you’ll never get out,” said one.

Now I’ve exchanged it for a more spacious, upright model with bags of head and leg room.

“Not one of those!” exclaimed the other.

“They’re driven by long-haired schoolteachers in floral shirts and wearing sandals. You’re too old to become a hippy.” See what I mean?

FINALLY, it’s a quarter of a century since my mother died. Naturally I still miss her. I also miss sending a Mother’s Day card. It gave me the chance to say thank you for the many things I hadn’t always appreciated when I should. Take my tip: if you are still fortunate enough to have your mother around, don’t forget that card on Sunday.