Fair enough, the book had my attention. But the cheerful voices of the Abba Teens made it virtually impossible for me to understand the first page. With all the distraction it took me a lot of time to figure out what it said, but what's worse, I couldn't get the tone right. The atmosphere, the words didn't get through to me because I was feeling bloody Dancing Queen.
Their loss, I thought, and put the book back. They shouldn't have turned on that bleeding radio! This is not a supermarket and this is not the way to go about selling books. Their loss, not mine.
But that was not particularly true. Even though I wouldn't really have had the money to spend on another book, nor the time to read it, it still bothers me that Waterstones interfered with my flirt.
Now I realise why I prefer the small shop on Windsor Street. No chance of being disturbed by anything when shopping for books there.