There are some situations, glimpses of a life lived and missed, that fill you with such indignity, that they never leave you and you live out the rest of your days wracking your brains, wondering if you could have changed the outcome in some way, and made a difference. And last week was one such opportunity. While waiting for a train at Oxford station I got chatting to an American couple on the platform.

They’re a friendly bunch the Yanks and after being queried for my life story, I asked them if they had enjoyed their stay in Oxford, secure in the knowledge that it was a fairly safe bet, it being one of the most beautiful cities in the world ‘an all. “Well, we enjoyed Woodstock,” came the odd reply. “Blenheim Palace really is magnificent.” Y-e-a-s. But what about Oxford? And then they went a bit quiet and shuffled about a bit before admitting that they didn’t think much of it actually. That shut me up, and most of the rest of the platform, as well as we all took this in. “Oh, what didn’t you like?” I managed to utter in a nonchalant sort of way that came out rather strangulated. “Well it’s just like everywhere else isn’t it? I mean, you’ve got a Gap and a Starbucks.” “Um yes, but what did you think about the rest of Oxford,” forcing my eyebrows to stay put and not rise to the top of my forehead incredulously. “What rest of it?” came the astounding reply, which nearly forced my knees to buckle. “Well you did explore didn’t you?” I said desperately. “Dear God please tell me you haven’t come all the way here from America without seeing any of Oxford’s history, architecture, culture and iconic, emblematic, awe-inspiring majesty? “No,” they said in surprise? “Why? Is there more?” No one can come here and not at least get to the end of Cornmarket and glimpse St Giles, Broad Street, the spires of the Oxford Camera and St Mary’s, the skyline of the High Street, Christ Church in the distance, or sniff the river and its punts positively urging the Americans to give them a go. “No,” she said. “We got to Gap and then turned round and came back to the station.” At this point everyone on the platform was standing open-mouthed at the terrible reality of this scenario.

And as we realised that they were about to get on the next train home, would never see Oxford in all its glory, and would tell their friends they didn’t know what all the fuss was about, the train drew up and on they hopped. Their departure was more powerful than any play ending or film conclusion. It was a travesty, no more no less. Still, their loss eh?