“WHAT part of Scotland are you from?” The smiling 60-year-old woman had listened to my light-hearted banter with a chum who runs a stall on Gloucester Green market. She was American.

Charitable I might be, but that’s no reason to excuse someone confusing my West Riding accent with that of kilted Celts from north o’ the border.

However, with the special relationship between our nations being at a low ebb right now, I gently corrected her while maintaining the moral high ground. (How smug can you get?) Her accent was New England and clearly Bostonian, so once dialects were agreed, we had a friendly conversation about the wonders of Oxford, culminating with a cuppa in a George Street cafe.

Why was she in England? She was researching a book that would solve the controversy – is there one? – of the English succession, a controversy caused by Henry IV.

If only A had been married off to B, and C had not taken umbrage, D wouldn’t have come into conflict with the rest of the alphabet.

Eventually conversation turned to the US. What did she think of President Obama and the changes he wanted to make in the land of the free? Her knowledge was vague, almost to the point of ignorance.

Still, I don’t suppose it’s easy to devote much time to present-day American matters when you are addressing British problems that were a fait accompli half a millennium ago.

  • With Oxford University's Freshers’ Week only days away, students old and new were in the city and preparing for the months ahead – that is, as much as they ever prepare.

Second-year students caught the eye as they shopped around, buying things to change their out-of-halls accommodation more to their taste. Charity shops were benefiting as bric-a-brac that for months had languished on a shelf, apparently a lost cause, found new admirers because of its quirkiness.

On the more practical side, two girls were buying wine glasses. They already had a dozen of various shapes and size and wanted more.

They showed surprise when the assistant asked why so many were needed.

“All we have is a toothbrush glass in the bathroom. That won’t be much use for our reunion party next week, will it?” said one.

  • CHARLES can be precious when it comes to the English language – the result of a lifetime teaching boys the difference between a noun and a verb. He was in full flow when our paths crossed in Beaumont Street.

“What is currently the most over-used word on radio and TV?” he asked. “Basically,” I offered.

“Not these days,” he corrected. “It is ‘issues’ – even the Sheriff of Nottingham used it in the recent Robin Hood series. I’ve counted them.” How sad, I though, that Charles had resorted to this sort of thing in retirement.

Driving home I listened to the Labour Party Conference. One speaker used the word in its plural or single form no fewer than 17 times in four minutes. Now who’s being sad?