Some time ago I was in a room containing perhaps half a dozen other adults, a cat on a sofa-arm, and a baby in a carry-cot far from where I was sitting. The air was filled with the noise of general conversation. I had a cold. I coughed.
The baby almost jumped out of its cot. The cat jumped. Nobody else moved. None of the adults (even those near me) flickered an eyelid. None so much as registered having heard the noise.
Last weekend I returned to our house in Derbyshire, where my brother and his wife, their two children and their beagle dog were staying for a few days’ break. That evening we sat around the kitchen table eating the delicious meal my sister-in-law had cooked. The dog was under the table. My sister-in-law was in the middle of a gentle anecdote about something or other; we were listening quietly; and she was speaking quietly.
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