RUBBISH, or rather receptacles for the deposit of same, were under scrutiny in High Street. Not the stout, cast iron models that are so much a part of Oxford, but shiny new ones that resemble kitchen pedal bins. They have started to appear around the centre.

Unlike their predecessors, they come in pairs – one bearing the word ‘Waste’, the other the catchword of the decade, ‘Recycle’. While the former had been called into service, the latter were covered with a coloured polythene bag.

“I wonder if the polythene is recyclable,” grinned undergraduate Keith, trying to impress his girl companion with his wit if not his knowledge of degradable materials. The humour was wasted. She was not sure but volunteered to ask someone in the town hall.

“I can’t see them lasting,” said retired postman Philip. “Those tinny things look flimsy to me.”

“They’re high-grade stainless steel,” corrected the young woman. “It’s very strong and many towns and cities are turning to them. They add a modern touch.”

“I bet they’ll soon dent with rough treatment – like that thing,” said Philip pointing to a pole that appeared to be of the same material.

It should have borne a traffic sign as did its three partners outside University College. Although damaged for some weeks, recently it seemed to have had more attention from late night revellers.

“It’s bent over to 45 degrees,” he said.

“More like 20,” argued the girl, inflicting her second correction of the encounter.

Philip now lost interest and wandered off, muttering to himself. I swear the words ‘bloody know all’ could be heard above the traffic.

IT was some years since I had been invited to join in a performance of Old MacDonald’s Farm. But this was put right when I called at the now splendidly refurbished Pegasus Theatre, in Magdalen Street.

The occasion was the weekly Sing the World class when toddlers take along mums, dads and grandparents to sit on the floor on circular foam cushions and join in. It was difficult to tell who was enjoying it the most.

The session was held in the new dance studio, complete with mirror wall and ballet rails, one of the splendid additions to the theatre.

“I DON’T think the Socialist Workers did the cause a favour with those posters,” said a middle-aged mother and Oxford graduate who turned out to support the students’ tuition fees protest.

Although the second and third letters of an over-used four-letter word were replaced by asterisks, it was still obvious to everyone.

“It’s vulgar. If students are to win any concessions from the Government, they’ll need the support of fuddy duddies like me,” she said.