The supermarket was very quiet

yesterday. 
I prowled in with the intention of doing more shopping than usual - if possible enough to last a fortnight apart from fresh fruit and vegetables. 
Not everything I needed was available but there was enough and I will find ways around the other things if and when I can. The nice student at the check out arranged a home-delivery for me. 
There were people around but the place was not bustling the way it usually is. That gives me some hope for the future.
And it was quiet, unusually quiet. Even allowing for the fact that there were less people around than usual it was unusually quiet.
It took me a moment to realise what was different. There was no "music" in the background. I had, quite by chance, come in during the one hour a week set aside as "quiet" for those who have mental health issues. 
I had forgotten that they had started to do this several months ago. It was lovely!
The Senior Cat and I both prefer to work to "quiet".  I cannot work against the distractions of the radio,conversation or even music. At university I never could understand the students who would have their Walkman devices clamped to their ears. (Yes, I am "that" old.) I shuddered at the way they would flip the switch on their portable radios even before they flipped the switch on the light.
As a child the only time the radio was turned on was for my father to listen to the news service. We children were permitted to listen to "the Argonauts" - but only because our parents regarded it as an educational program. (It was and it was one of those things which encouraged me to write. I would sometimes have the thrill of my contributions being read on air. It is a program long gone but, for many children, it was the very best of  children's radio.)
We did not listen to "the top 40" or equivalents. Out in the rural and remote areas we lived in the reception was sometimes so poor we could scarcely hear the voices anyway. Even now Brother Cat, Middle Cat and I prefer silence. The Black Cat listens to more - but she does not read.
I pedalled home thinking of one of my favourite poems by Pablo Neruda - "A callarse" or "Keeping quiet" in English. If you are curious then there are translations on the internet - some better than others. I like the Alastair Reid one but there are others. It is a poem to think about right now and I had a small moment of time in which to do it.
A "quiet" supermarket was lovely. It would be nice if I could organise life to go at that time each week.