When I was a kid, before we all learned what a computer having a nervous breakdown sounded like, we’d entertain ourselves by soaking tea biscuits in tall glasses of milk delivered straight to our doorstep by the milkman, while watching our favourite baseball team, until the biscuit was nothing more than paste. It didn’t take long, 3 or 4 minutes, tops. We’d then scoop up the spackle with a spoon while hoping the Expos would come out victorious.

Milkmen are somewhat long gone, and somehow, even those simple tea biscuits don’t seem quite the same anymore. But every now and then, that creamy, sugary taste comes back to me, along with the memory of sitting there with a spoon in one hand, watching the game and waiting for that biscuit to reach just the right consistency.