This is a pleasure I haven’t had since childhood, but during a week of trialling the local milkman, I’m really enjoying the simple pleasure of opening the front door when the air is still damp and the grass dewy, to collect two cold glass bottles from the porch. I love the way the bottles haven’t changed since I was a child: squat chunky pints with shining foil tops.
Every morning is like going back in time. I love the whole procedure: opening the door to see them there on the porch, two small white guards; bringing them inside, cold against my skin; pushing down the cap and pouring that first inch away from the top of the bottle, the satisfying glug. My favourite part, though, is the first: the tiny excitement of seeing two full white bottles on the porch, a call back to years long gone.
Monkey by Clive Wesley Dennis