![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiy3oJiuy-gZKvq2eJTYvEJVlU8xlDXc9Q_95UwTbCRGDof8l5m5V9RqMuVd0cMnAfGoZuEAeEKoSUen27RM7pmZm96k-H4q42I_oim8IJ0O1v5NdAsk6-pcHF8817qi60rIrqJn0q3hjA/s400/milk.jpg)
I loved glass milk bottles, delivered by a milkman on a rattling unstable looking van in the early mornings. I loved the feel of their ice cold glass and the satisfying foil you had to peel off the top.
I also loved that pale blue nightie, I believed it was the same as Wendy's from Peter Pan and that I could fly when I jumped down from tables and chairs.
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