The harassed woman shopper, between telling her lively four-year-old daughter to stop running off, and vainly persuading her even younger son to cease shouting, was packing shopping at a checkout in Tesco's Cowley store.

She had filled seven plastic bags and was topping up an eighth. Tuesday morning was hot. Interference she could do without. But it came from a well-meaning busybody in the shape of a retired car worker. (He had earlier revealed his employment history to a patient woman on the neighbouring till.) "You aren't thinking of the planet when you use all those bags," he told her.

"I am - and I'm also thinking of my purse," she replied.

He read the situation incorrectly, believing she was referring to the financial outlay for so-called everlasting and eco-friendly bags. Once bought, they were there for the conceivable future, he said.

"I use the plastic bags as bin liners. If I didn't, I'd have to buy a roll of them for kitchen waste," she explained. "Plastic of sorts is inevitable if I'm to keep the bin men sweet."

The man acknowledged the sound reasoning and offered to help take the bags to her car - it was the least he could do for doubting her, he said.

She smiled.

"Better still, hang on to these two while I pack the boot," she said indicating her children.

It would be a pleasure, he said gallantly.

While on the subject of eco-friendly bags, watch for some bearing the name and motif of Oxford Shopmobility. The ever-resourceful Robin Brooks, who runs the schemes of both Oxford and Witney, has ordered 1,000 cloth shopping bags, which he and his staff will give away over the coming weeks.

I queried the verb give'; surely it should have been sell'. He put me right.

There would be no burden on the city's funds because the bags were to be bought from the public's spontaneous cash gifts to the scheme, which made no charge for use of its scooters.

"We wanted to do our bit for the environment and this seemed a good way. The bags will also draw attention to Shopmobility. We don't have an advertising budget," he added.

With such enterprise, he should be in the city treasurer's department.

The bells of Carfax rang out as gown-and-carnation-bedecked undergraduates left the Examinations School in High Street. The relief on most faces was in sharp contrast to expressions seen earlier as their owners made their way to sit what could be make-or-break tests.

One young woman, who was met on the steps by her boyfriend carrying a large bunch of flowers, was overcome with delight (and relief?) and immediately drew attention to the bells.

The boyfriend, hoping to garner as many Brownie points as possible, kept a straight face as he said he had organised the whole thing just for her.

"Oh, did you?" she replied scornfully. "I do listen to the news and today is Prince Philip's birthday and this is one of the days when Carfax ringers perform a special peal."

"Well, it was worth a try," he confessed cheerfully as she gave him a special hug.

"I've taken a picture of the Bridge of Sighs with Oxford Castle in the background," the colourfully clad American woman loudly and proudly told her male companion.

She showed him the image on her digital camera's large display screen and he expressed approval. I sneaked a look over her shoulder, believing that if she had captured such a scene, hers was some camera - bearing in mind the distance between the two places.

The castle' was the bell tower at New College; its lofty crenellations were responsible for the confusion.

I didn't think it prudent - or kind - to expose the error. Americans don't have much venerable history in stone, do they?

(Memo: Pride in Oxford is one thing, but I must really fight this smugness.)