I sauntered through Oxford City last week. You may conjure in your mind the scene. The historic, university city with its old timber framed medieval structures standing erect though visibly and randomly listing in all directions but still defiant to time's decay; its later glittering spires atop the halls of academe and sparkling rays of sunlight flitting from its honeyed stone; tourists of every genetic variation gawping in awe from behind their selfie-sticks; the locals athrong on the streets unashamedly practicing their new found religion - shopping; young turks strutting for the maidens of the city. All this made sumptuously pleasant because the weather was clement. (The UK is a wonderful place only on a few occasions when the summer weather improves the quality of life manifold, otherwise the 5Ds apply: it's Damp, it's Dark, it's Dirty, it's Dismal and it's Depressing.) And so you can imagine my uplifted spirit and my sense of joy. My eyes darted hither and thither gorging on the city's delights. I could sense a buoyancy in my step. Then, as I passed the Saxon Tower - dead center in the city - my new found harmonious congruence with the world came, in an instant, crashing down. When, from upon a box, with his long accusatory spear-like finger pointing at me, a Christian called, "You are a sinner".