Hands up, I’m about to say something that may offend. It’s a four-letter word and it starts with an ‘F’. But we’re all adults aren’t we, so turn away now if of a sensitive nature – FLAG.

There, I’ve said it.

I love our flag.

And a good thing too, when you think this weekend has seen much of Oxford bedecked with Union Jacks (and yes, I’ve heard all the arguments: on land apparently, it’s the Union Flag and at sea the Union Jack). But petty trivialities aside – including whether it’s hung upside down (and frankly, whose life is dull enough to care?) – you have to admit that from a purely sartorial point of view, our flag is a looker.

It’s smart, striking, proud and in vernacular vexillology (that’s the academic appreciation of flags), something of a ‘hottie’.

I know the US Stars and Stripes is just as recognisable, but with all due respect, it doesn’t have quite the same ‘punch’ does it?

More cash ’n’ flash, if you know what I mean.

While the good old Union Jack literally shimmers with unashamed perkiness and pride.

Britain may be guilty of a lot of things (think: the self-service tills in WH Smith), but one thing you have to salute is our sense of style.

So full marks to all those who have hung up their Union Jacks with simple, satisfying pride.

It’s a shame of course that Oxford City Council couldn’t have spared just a few quid for bunting along Cornmarket and the High Street (if it was the purse-strings they were watching, the Poundshop in the Westgate Centre provided a veritable motherlode of bunting bargains).

And hell, if they were wondering how to do it, a few words with the admirable John Irvin in St Ebbe’s Street would have set them on their way (Mr Irvin, a souvenir stall holder, decorated the street out of his own pocket and boy does it look good).

Which is why, in this spirit, I tip my hat to Boots the Chemist for bedecking their shop in the city centre so beautifully (I could have picnicked in there).

And naturally Marks & Spencer made a worthy attempt too (especially with their salad cream sandwiches).

But what I’ve truly loved over these last few days has not been the grand, corporate gestures, but the small, intimate recognition by individuals keen to embrace the feel-good spirit of this occasion – the single, small flags fluttering from window boxes; home-made sponges decorated with dodgy icing; deliciously eccentric matching of red, white and blue attires and vicars doing brisk business with their seemingly recession-proof fetes.

Yup, it really makes you stop and think.

Oh, and... beam.