Milking It

At about 02:30 local time last night, says William reading to the court from his notes, I observed a suspicious milk delivery. Now, I need you to know that I am not yet so old that what happens outside my window is my entire world, but when you’ve finished three hours of studying your bedroom ceiling, you’ll take anything. Plus it’s recycling day and our council has us using these large blue sack things that as yet have not blown away on a whim, but it didn’t half sound like that’s exactly what they were doing last night. I don’t know how I could confuse the sound of plastic sacks scraping across the ground with that of a pickup van scrunching to a halt and its five crates of glass milk bottles cuddling up together, but I do know that I have now had five more hours to consider it. Which raises questions for me such as whether it’s still hot enough here that the milk bottle I saw the driver take to a house will pasteurise by the time that household wakes up and spots it. Or whether…