Bicester was always a quiet town, somehow bordering on genteel despite the nature of calm rebellion installed by the teenagers of the area, the hush of anarchy that was forever blowing in their veins but somehow never getting beyond the point where the small population was ever worried that life was not somehow a picturesque version of some Famous Five novel. Sure there was a riot in the town but comparing that to the big cities, judging against history is like weighing up the difference between an oak and a sapling.