CITY OF 69

The city of oxford had not changed as mush as people. The city was predictably different: it was bigger: the cars: and shops were numerous and more garish: and the streets were more crowded. But the predominant characteristics of the place was still the cream- coloured stone of the college buildings: with occasional glimpse through an arch of the startling green turf of a deserted quadrangle in curious hue of English pale shadow as against the brassy glare of tropics. The seamless buildings picking up the generous contours of winding streets of markets are familiar however the students seemed a totally new breed. Men were with hair growing over their ears: with orange and pink neckerchiefs with bell- bottom trousers and high heeled shoes. Many of them were barefoot in the streets: or wore peculiar open sandals without socks. The very often Men and women had trousers & tops vulgarly tight fittings with conviction that lingeries were out of fashion while some men grew pig tails or masses of curls so that they always looked as if they were peering through hole in a hedge. This apparently being insufficient outrageous for some: they had added Jesus beards: Mexican mustaches or sweeping side-whiskers. How bizarre that nothing seems to have changed: the paintwork of houses: front garden: but lukewarm socialist knowing that society was unjust: not sure how it might be changed for the better. Growing older is gain of skills and not wisdom if unaltered & frozen built is abraised with dynamics of new generation is read through ageless lenses.