Inconsiderate Garden-Goers

Being a member of Oxford University has a few advantages - one of the possibly more minor ones being that you are granted free access to the botanic (botanical?) gardens here. After talking about them last night with a particularly drunk example of a Swede, I was reminded of my aim to 'see the ivy', as is done in 'Brideshead Revisited'. Anyhow, yes, I headed there early this afternoon to sit in the sun - armed with, for good measure, some of my course reading and a large bottle of water in an attempt to rehydrate my body. (The course reading obviously to rehydrate my mind rather than the more literal flesh and blood). Digressing. Right - found a nice bench on which to perch myself and ponder the imponderables of existence, and settled down for a good hour or so of doing remarkably little while pretending to do an awful lot.
Not five minutes after delving into those thoughts one only has in moments of distinct solitude, my peace was interrupted by a group of overgrown children. Specifically, women out celebrating the birthday of one of them and this apparently necessitating much squawking, fake laughter, and multiple air-kisses, that ultimate demonstration of the sophisicated mind in our day and age. After enduring the pointless and overly loud chat for a good ten minutes, I stalked off muttering loudly about quiet, rest, and the role of the recluse in gardens today. I doubt they took the hint, they were so busy exclaiming over a tea pot shaped as a country cottage. Delightful.
Just as libraries are kept silent, so perhaps gardens should be the outdoor version of a haven. Sometimes I like to pretend I'm not in a city and it is a bit difficult if people insist on being loud and brash right next to me while waving multiple carrier bags and passing round the cigarettes. Maybe I'll go back mid-week, should be quieter then... If not, will resort to the museum and spend my time among the dinosaur bones. How 'improving'.