I was watching a documentary recently, which brought back a memory.
It showed a milkman in his float, delivering milk to the nation’s doorstep. The sun was rising, and a dog was barking as he went house to house, leaving a pint or two at each. As the float moved away, it made a low humming sound against the silence of the early morning.
It was a daily scene across the country.
In a time before supermarkets opened early, and long before 24-hour convenience shopping became the norm, milk in Britain was delivered direct to the doorstep. For those prepared to pay, it arrived not from a fridge in a shop but an early-morning delivery direct to your front door.
For many, it was the height of convenience.
If you had your milk delivered, it was like you had joined the jet-set. Your early morning tea was brewing, Cornflakes or Weetabix waiting, and all it needed was fresh milk. And there it was, waiting on your doorstep, every day.
In the 1960s and 70s, the milkman was a familiar part of daily life in Britain. He was often seen, sometimes heard, in the early hours, long before most people were awake.
The Sound of the Morning Round
Milk deliveries usually happened very early, when the streets and roads were quiet, curtains were drawn, and most people were still in bed waiting for the alarm to go off.
The world had yet to wake up.
Typically, the only sound that might disturb this peace was the soft electric hum of the milk float as it slowly made its way down the road. In some areas, delivery was still by a horse-drawn float. That became increasingly rare as the sixties moved on, as horses gradually gave way to the modern, all-electric-powered float.
Then came the unmistakable clink of glass bottles as they were placed on doorsteps. If you were a light sleeper, that sound was part of waking up. Perhaps not welcome, but it told you that another day at work or school was about to begin.
