When I was a kid, one of the magical items in my granpa’s home, which I was allowed to use whenever I would visit, was an aluminium mug which used to belong to my father. The year 1947 was calligraphically carved on it with his Swiss Army knife. When I came here, I found one in a haberdashery and bought in immediately. My father’s was made in Czechoslovakia, mine in Egypt. They are completely unglamorous, funny things but pouring cold water in them in the summer immediately cools them, as well as the air in them, which makes drinking even more refreshing, albeit for a much shorter time. I like the idea I am continuing some sort of low-key, insignificant and obscure tradition.