Annette Cunningham says exam time in Oxford is magical

It’s a sight to behold. There’s always something quite magical about travelling to work on the Number 2 bus this time of year and spotting the, somewhat surreal, sight of clusters of students (I’m unaware of the correct collective noun for them), bedecked in their gowns and carnations.

Even better is the sight of a lone cyclist whizzing past with their cloak of black billowing behind them.

Oh, so Harry Potter. And I bet they’d do just about anything for a magic wand.

Amazingly, they always manage to appear so calm on their way to sit those end-of-year papers.

However, I can imagine the inner turmoil they must be experiencing as they walk along feasting on croissants.

I’m delighted that I lived in central Oxford for a while when my children were little.

Spotting gowned students clutching mortar boards on your journey to school has to make for a great childhood memory.

I don’t have student sightings to recall from my youth, but I do fondly remember other uniforms of the 70s era.

The postmen were glorious.

I’m sure it’s far more practical to wear shorts whilst delivering the mail on a hot day but I do miss the sight of the booted and suited version.

Sporting a peaked cap and bag they’d cheerfully do their round whistling away. It was probably part of the interview process ensuring they could deliver a good tune.

Their bag has even gone — the deliverers of today must be kept so inundated with numerous eBay parcels (guilty) that they now need a trolley to deliver it all.

But somehow I don’t think Postman Pat would ever have had as much appeal if he’d been donning a baseball cap and trainers.

Bus conductors were wonderful. They too always seemed smart and cheery.

It was very rare if you didn’t end up skipping off the bus with the end of a reel of tickets to play with.

Then, of course, there was the milkman with his stripy apron. I haven’t heard the clink of milk bottles being delivered for so long I thought the service was extinct until I caught sight of a milk float in Summertown recently. I was so excited I nearly told the whole bus.

Which reminds of one of most embarrassing moments — forgetting I didn’t have my young daughters with me and loudly telling a train carriage full of adults to look at the moo cows.

I digress.

Then, of course, there was our lollipop lady in her white coat and hat. I haven’t spotted one for years so I’m not sure if they still exist.

So many people seem to drive their kids to school there is probably no one left to see safely over the road these days.

Another thing that’s become extinct is the unbecoming checked polyester housecoats my mum’s friends would automatically put on to do a spot of housework. You can’t image a 28-year-old slipping into one of those today.

But let’s hope the tradition of wearing gowns to exams remains. It helps make Oxford, Oxford.

Annette Cunningham is 48 years old and has two teenaged daughters studying for their A-levels