As I prepare to write for the first time of the attractions of Blackbird Leys, let me at once assert that my purpose is not to supply an instantly recognisable illustration of an oxymoron.

No, much maligned as it has been over many years, ‘The Leys’ does appear at last to have a few good things to be said about it.

I pedalled there in glorious sunshine at the beginning of last week for a reason to be explained presently.

The first thing I noticed, having crossed the ring road from the Cowley Centre, was a black-and-white sign: “Welcome to Blackbird Leys”.

“Yes, you are welcome to it,” was my jaundiced response. But then I looked more carefully around me.

This was not Blackbird Leys, bleak and barren as it used to be.

The scruffy, littered look of old had gone and been replaced by a much more cared-for appearance.

The estate could be seen to be sharing in Oxford’s prosperity, with residents taking pride in their environment. The estate’s leafy thoroughfares look similar to those in the traditionally ’smart’ parts of the city.

The leafiness is, of course, a big part of what makes the difference; mature trees curving between and above the houses give a charm to any urban scene.

This is especially the case when, as now, these include majestic horse chestnuts, with their almost absurd richness of blossom.

To Oxford City Council, no doubt, is owed much thanks for this canopy of green, as indeed for the well-kept state of the streets. Some readers are probably scoffing at a myopia that has prevented me from noticing the Leys’s new look before.

The truth is I rarely visit the place, except occasionally to sporting events at the Kassam Stadium, which is in any event peripheral to the estate.

My ride up there last week was necessitated by the need to procure oil to lubricate my hairdressing clippers.

Had I mentioned here before that, being almost bald, I have long given up on barbers?

Why spend £20 when the whole thing – bonce and beard – can be easily done at home, by one’s own hand? A 10-minute once-over at a one-and-a-half setting on the clippers and the job is done.

I was bequeathed my Wahl clippers – the sort favoured by professionals – some years ago, and with them a little phial of the oil so necessary for their painless operation.

“A little bead is all you need,” as used to be said of another hairdressing product, Tru-gel (the hair lotion that didn’t stain pillows or chair backs).

But even the littlest beads mount up and eventually my reserves of oil were gone.

Where to procure more proved problematic. I drew a blank at Boswell’s in Broad Street, which usually has everything.Though Boot’s sell clippers, they don’t sell oil. Robert Dyas couldn’t help either.

Emerging from the last, I sought the help of a member of staff in the hairdressers opposite. Where did they get their oil?

Here I learned of Sally Salon Services, in Sandy Lane West, Blackbird Leys, which I rode out to the next day.

So it was – in this well-stocked supplier to the tonsorial trade – that for a shade under £6 I obtained a container of Wahl oil large enough for sufficient lubrication, I would say, to see me out.

My return journey took me into Littlemore, through the underpass beneath the ring road.

Here I made the discovery that the Nuffield Arms – one of the huge red-brick hostelries built by Halls in the 1930s heyday of pub architecture – is now a branch of the Co-op.

This was the pub at which, long ago, I played in a championship-winning quiz team.

A ringer? One set of opponents thought so when, at a home match late in the season, I loudly asked where the loos were.

Continuing towards home, I next turned into Beauchamp Lane and the lovely spring scene you can see in my photograph above.

What a delight this little enclave is, literally yards from the horrid concrete bulk of the Cowley multi-storey car park. A hidden gem.