The message - Merry Christmas' - flashing on the bus's front matrix destination board, combined with the strains of that delightful song, "All I want for Christmas" playing on my car radio, rekindled a boyhood wish.

To explain, it is necessary to hark back to the Second World War, during which my mother was a bus conductress. (Northerners did not use the word clippies' - that was for those in the distant south.) One of her jobs was to wind the route number and destination scrolls while standing on the bus bumper and stretching across the engine compartment.

On the few occasions I went with her, I watched as she wound past the names of towns and cities that, although only a handful of miles away, were rarely visited because, at Mr Churchill's request, unnecessary journeys were not made. (Motorists and the carbon footprint conscious, please note!) How I longed to do the job. But lack of inches excluded this five-year-old.

To cut short what is already too long a story, I never did. In later years, uncharacteristic shyness prevented my approaching bus staff and asking to do the honours. Now a flashing matrix has made winding and the winder redundant. Even the bus conductress is no more.

This morsel of melancholy was in mind as I sat in the Westgate Centre Tchibo cafe, displaying, according to a couple of acquaintances, a doleful expression.

"A Christmas present you never had, eh?" sympathised Philip, a former paint sprayer at Cowley works. "At least it wouldn't have cost anybody anything," he added, before launching into the ridiculously high price of Christmas.

His wife, Diane entered into the spirit. She had longed to press the emergency stop button in a lift, not when it was crowded, but when she was alone, just to see how long it would take the world to realise she was missing. It would have given the minimum discomfort to others - but she'd never dared. As a 60-plus-year-old, to do so now would cause eyebrows to rise and her children to search out the documentation for enduring power of attorney.

A middle-aged couple at the next table, shopping with a primary school age great-niece, were listening. One said she had always wanted to charge up a downside escalator. She would smile enviously when she saw young wags doing just that while running the gauntlet of security staff in Debenham's.

"Let's go and do it now, Auntie Jean," enthused the youngster.

"It's too busy today," she replied swiftly, displaying remarkable mental agility to escape from what could have been an embarrassing and possibly arresting performance.

Three more people confessed to having unfulfilled hopes'.

One, a woman in her early 30s, longed for a gentleman to raise his hat and offer her his seat on a bus, even though there were many vacant places. The second, about the same age, longed to meet a man who automatically walked beside her on the outside of the pavement, while the third - a young man - had wishes that involved money and major inconvenience. He admitted that life had conditioned him into thinking that dreams only came at a cost.

Cabbages and Kings going all philosophical? Whatever next! I am sure there are many who also have simple, and even foolish wishes for themselves. It is hardly sinful to occasionally put oneself first. How about dropping me a line and sharing them?

Finally, may I wish everyone the happiest and most joyful Christmas imaginable and warmly thank those who confess to sharing and enjoying my weekly ramble (and ramblings!) in and around our wonderful city of Oxford.