Milk for breakfast
“I’m just going out for some milk for our breakfast, back in ten minutes” my daughter Paula shouted. “OK” I replied, and carried on working. I was surprised by a knock on the door, and Leanne came in. She was a friend of my daughter, who, it seemed, had been staying over. “Hi Leanne. Didn’t know you were here. Did you sl**p over? How are you today? Mick not here?” I asked the nineteen year old, a pretty, giggly girl with freckles, blond hair and blue eyes, still dressed in the guestroom...