In Lancaster today, as I expressed my opinions, my lady felt it necessary to inform me, "Not everybody is like you." Although I was already aware of this rather obvious fact, the point was taken.
In Oxford again, where I found old buildings, young people, and a surprising abundance of bedraggled and generally confused looking homeless people huddled in dirty sleeping bags in doorways and alcoves; and in a coffee shop a young man looking at a laptop as he rocked back and forth endlessly in a clearly agitated manner. Mental illness. I found a lot of mental illness in Oxford, probably including the middle-aged man who placed himself right in front of me outside the Museum of the History of Science and for reasons unknown declared, "This is reality you know!" So I looked him in the eye and found myself saying, "I'm not so sure about that." And this made him frown and walk on past me.