While trying to concentrate on my friend's novel in the hospital waiting room, I am distracted by a merry red head of ample proportions and voice to go with them. She is having a good laugh with a couple of men and another woman. No booze but they could be in a pub. Torn between their wit and hilarity and the limpid prose on the Kindle, I am distracted by a spoken sentence wrapped in seismic laughter " I had a dream about the tool box on my motor bike..." She has bright red hair, wears a black tee shirt adorned with picture of a plane and the words Flight 606, black jeans and pink plastic slippers. Thinking back I should have concentrated on what the party was saying. The written words endure, the spoken ones drift away into the dark.
"One of the secrets of a happy life is continuous small treats". Wrote Iris Murdoch. I agree.