The five young men were survivors of a post-finals bottle party. Now mid-morning, they were smartly dressed, if a little ruffled around the edges, ties long gone and shirts undecided about remaining behind trouser waistbands.

They sat on the wall of the East Oxford Community Centre in Cowley Road, singing loudly, if not in tune, like hopeful yet hopeless contestants for the X Factor.

In front was a flat cap, essential to all buskers. It contained but a few coins, all contributed, I suspect, by the singers to add a little authenticity. The public passed, deciding a smile rather than disapproval was sufficient reward.

Suddenly, a police car came into view, driven at a measured pace, a wheeled version of coppers parading two-by-two. The vehicle slowed, a window was lowered and the seasoned officer in the passenger seat raised both hands and clapped.

The driver then increased speed and made off to heaven knows where.

As if in tribute to the tolerance of our boys in blue, the unholy choir improvised, with many a la-la, the once familiar signature tune of TV's Dixon of Dock Green, something they probably learned at their grandmother's knee.

The whole episode made a sunny day even sunnier.

Meanwhile, other undergraduates filed into the Examinations Schools in High Street, most trying to show an air of calm, although the intense young woman who fumbled and dropped her multi-coloured revision cards was anything but.

I helped to retrieve them and wished her good luck.

"I'll need it," she replied, smiling weakly.

Let's hope she gains a First.

Remember the signs outside neighbouring Coco Caf and Kazbar in Cowley Road, the former asking for staff in business-like words, while the latter wanted long-haired freaky people' to apply?

Could it be that restraint hasn't paid off for Coco although it is difficult to imagine why a caf-bar, the central feature of which is a life-size model of a man in a bath, should be restrained? The words have changed, if not the sentiment.

The blackboard now reads: "If you are not long-haired or freaky, apply for a bar and floor position.' As they say, watch this space.

My thanks to those who wrote or telephoned about the three-year-old girl with face painted like a tiger who described herself as a little sod' when I asked what rather than who she was (Oxford Mail, May 26).

Tom Reeves, of Witney, echoing the opinion of them all, penned: "Kids, I love them."

An AA road sign near Magdalen Bridge directing traffic and public alike to Headington Hill Park, reads: "Creation Open Air Theatre, Macbeth and Robinhood sic."

Will Maidmarion be there? It should be quite a party if Thesherriffofnottingham can make it.