Is it my imagination, or are fewer people wearing gloves these days? Tuesday morning was cold - so cold that even I regretted not bringing a pair to Oxford. Yet on a simple observation, I reckon only one person in seven was wearing anything on their hands. The rest displayed digits that ranged in colour from pink to purple - apart from those who stuffed them in pockets.

In Cowley Road, three barbers' shops were empty, the hairdresser of one taking the lack of customers as an opportunity to smoke.

"Business thin today?" I said, stating the obvious.

"Would you choose to be shaven and shorn when it's so cold?" he replied.

Bearing in mind the Almighty removed that option some years back, I did not feel qualified to answer.

Not even the freezing cold could remove those quirky scenes that abound in Cowley Road. There was the woman sitting on a wall outside the East Oxford community centre, munching through a large box of mini-donuts.

Her fingers were blue, the loose sugar giving them the appearance of being covered in minute diamonds. She smiled sweetly before licking each finger with slow and surprising elegance.

The tall, slim man in the grey, pin-stripe suit and carrying a shiny black brief case was every inch the man of commerce. But somehow the red Santa bobble hat looked out of place.

The four teenagers applied lip balm as they waited for a bus opposite Manzil Way. The three girls were quick about it, while the boy took extra care, enduring ribald and disparaging remarks from his female friends.

The large man, whose grey, flowing locks could not be stowed beneath his large hat, and whose silver-handled walking stick contrasted sharply with his long black leather overcoat, cut a striking figure. Heads turned, but not all in appreciation.

"What does he look like?" a small elderly woman commented critically to her equally small male companion.

The same could be asked of her as she adjusted her fair isle woollen hat to cover ears and rest on the top of her spectacles while her Oxford United scarf trailed on the pavement behind her from beneath her over-large duffel coat.

In the deepest depths of the Westgate Centre car park, something stirred. Robin Brooks, Mr Shopmobility, was sifting through files and filing cabinets, like Conrad Black expecting a call from the taxman. However, Robin's reasons were honest and honourable.

Early next year, the operation will move out to make way for the bulldozers and the redevelopment workmen.

It is moving to a temporary location as yet undecided, but certainly not big enough to house the entire fleet of scooters, wheelchairs and paper that has been accumulated over the years. Some of the machines will have to go into store for the duration.

Oxford's Shopmobility scheme and Robin celebrated their 11th anniversary last week. It has grown to a previously unexpected size and is seen as the perfect model for other towns setting up such a scheme.

One little known service is that provided to the University Disability Office.

Robin has made available and maintains half a dozen scooters so that less able-bodied students can get around for lectures and tutorials and not incur the wrath of impatient or clock-conscious tutors.

Let's hope the centre owners will allow sufficient space in the new development for Shopmobility to maintain its present fleet - and perhaps allow room for growth.

QUEUING outside the door of the Post Office in St Aldate's gave me time to study the once elegant and uniquely designed three-section postbox.

It wasn't the fact that there is no clear indication where first-class letters should be deposited that caught the eye, but the tarnished brass plate showing collection times, a plate that once shone like a mirror, reflecting both the building's and the postal service's pride.