THE civic enforcement officer was eyeing a well-polished grey BMW parked outside a hardware shop in Cowley Road where the pavement seems to be at its narrowest.

Suddenly a bicycle, heading in the direction of the city centre, sped between the officer and the car.

The officer didn’t flinch, his eyes firmly fixed on the car and its tax disc. I leapt to one side, not prepared to risk being mown down.

“Should cyclists do that?” I asked the CEO, knowing full well the answer.

“What?” he asked.

“Cycle on the pavement.”

“They shouldn’t do it.”

“But one just missed you.”

“I didn’t see it.”

How he didn’t – or how it missed his polished shoes – is a mystery and so I put him wise to what had happened. He didn’t appear interested.

“Cycles are for the police,” he said, moving on.

****

THERE is always variety in Cowley Road and my next port of call was a stationery shop. There were no customers and the two assistants having done what was necessary to make it welcoming to the public, were trying to solve a crossword puzzle.

Their smiles brightened the morning as I walked in.

Did they stock a certain type of notebook, the sort I use to record happenings for Cabbages & Kings?

They weren’t sure, but were prepared to look; meanwhile I was invited to help find solutions to the crossword while one of them checked the stock. It would have been ungallant to refuse.

She returned a few minutes later. The answer was no, but there were lots of similar notebooks.

I chose one, paid and then stuck around to help find the last few missing words. To be honest, the girls did most of the work.

We parted, the two thanking me for my help and I thanking them for theirs.

That is what I call service with a smile.

****

YOU don’t expect deep thinking in Subs cafes; the service is speedy and, while the seats are comfortable, there is a quick turnover and conversation usually concerns the quality of the chicken, the hotness of the meatballs or the variety of the accompanying vegetable dressing.

But two young men, probably in their late teens, proved this was not always the case.

“Why, if there is a Middle East, isn’t there a Middle West?” asked the one in the baseball cap, a serious expression across his young face.

His companion had no answer.

“Why are inflammable and flammable the same?” asked the other.

It was clear the questions were not answered to their satisfaction when they left, leaving me to ponder these and other matters.

Do the residents of San Francisco on the west coast of the United States look upon Japan and China as being further west? We are assured the world isn’t flat, so where does west become east and vice versa?