IT IS a fact that if you want a clergyman to open a conversation, first you should smile at him. It never fails.

“Lovely day,” this tall, elderly, dog-collared man of the cloth commented after I flashed the smile. With him in Queen Street were his wife and nine-year-old grandson.

Tuesday brought the sun and all its wonderful side benefits to the city.

The exception seemed to be the grandson. His face was pinned to a Nintendo DS, his fingers and thumbs working frantically, his brow lined with concentration.

The cleric commented on their good fortune. He had recently retired and they were now living in Marple, Cheshire, but had brought their grandson, Peter, to the city where he had studied more than half a century before.

“My name’s also Peter,” I revealed to the lad,trying to bring him into the conversation.

“Cool,” he replied without any break in concentration or digital dexterity.

For a few minutes the grandparents and I discussed this and that.

Then it happened.

“Oh b*****!” exclaimed the boy. Something was clearly amiss in DS world.

The effect was instant. Grandmother clamped her hand to her mouth in disbelief. She couldn’t have been more shocked had he announced he planned to elope with a female chorister four times his age.

Grandfather turned scarlet and his powers of conversation drained. My problem was in trying to keep a straight face.

I attempted to rescue our conversation, but failed. Minutes later we parted, the grandparents still shocked to the core, the lad still eyes down on the DS.

Me? I rushed to the Clarendon Centre where I burst into unrestrained laughter.

I CAN’T help noticing how many would-be patriotic shops and stores are flying the Union Flag upside down – the signal of distress. I tried to put matters right in a few of these.

In Rowell of Oxford along Turl Street (est. 1797) an up-market shop selling only the most genteel of gifts, one of the two flags on display was incorrect. When informed, the manager quickly put it right.

Even older Boswell’s, (est. 1738) had two correctly flown flags but a third was upside down.

“We’ll change it after closing,” promised one of the staff.

A few doors away in Broad Street, Bravissimo had only one flag on display, a clever piece of art work involving minute pictures of their products.

I went in to point out the error but chickened out. It was the glances from customers – all women – that drained my courage. How could I confess I’d been peering into a window awash with bras and panties?

So much for preserving the flag’s dignity.