It was an intermittent sound, not continual. I couldn’t work out where it was coming from. A laugh. A forced laugh. Was she in one of the flats to the left of us? It was certainly coming through an open window. A laughing woman. A high-pitched, uncomfortable sound. I was trying to sleep. Admittedly early for most and I would drift towards it only to be woken by her laugh again. It makes him cross. He is getting more deaf but noise still makes him cross. But it is a free country, isn’t it? And people should be able to laugh. He wrote about noise specifically and how we can still be peaceable amongst or amidst it. It tried it and it worked. I fell asleep.
The red poppies are out in that garden on Llanbadarn Road. Gorgeous blooms, and so fragile with petals like vermillion crepe paper. What a joy! Even in the half-dark. Joy.