Tottyland

My morning in Oxford by Bill

Between the showers I hoped on a bus to the centre of Oxford but being me took the bus that goes the long way through Headington which was actually good as it meant I could stop of at Brookes and see a mate of mine who I will call Jack (which is not his name). Jack is Mr perpetual student and sadly very straight. What makes this hard is that under his studenty beard thingy he is actually rather cute and likes hugging people. So to cut a long story short...too late I know...I had coffee with him and went on the 'Brookes Bus' down into town.

Now the 'Brookes Bus' is the bus shockingly for Brookes students and always has some eye candy on board of both sexes. On the bus today was a black haired circa 6ft 2 cute chap who seemed to keep looking at me. On buses this happens, confined space, nosiness, etc so I paid little heed. When I got of at the top of the High, he did too, nothing odd there as it's the nearest stop to the shops.

I went into Boots to get a party pack of ibuprofen, he was in Boots. I went to the pay desk, he went to the one next to it. So what to do? Is this coincidence? Am I being stalked? Is he an undercover policeman following me? Am I over reacting? Should I say something?

I decided that if he followed me again I'd say something. So I decided that to make sure it wasn't some odd coincidence to walk over to the Westgate Centre. He's still following me. This is getting odd.

By this time he must know I have spotted him so why not come say hello? So I decided to stand in the middle of the main hall of the Westgate and wait. He walks in sees me standing there. I look at him, he looks at me. He bottles and walks back out of the doors.

I didn't follow.

So here I am left like someone with a murder mystery novel with the last pages torn out not knowing what all that was about. Being stalked is a rather odd experience, not really worrying (though I can see it being so if you are not tall like me and it's on a dark empty road) more puzzling. Most chaps in Oxford are used to being stalked by the Oxford High girls who make a sport of it and there the girls looking to marry an Oxford University student but this was...well oddly flattering.

So if you are tall, thin, with black hair wearing a beige jacket, blue jeans and were in Oxford stalking me around noon try actually talking to people not following them.

Anyhows I went off an consoled myself with a quick perve of hairy John (please oh please get rid of that tragic beard) upstairs in WHSmiths.