Thursday, 3 March 2011

The special girls on my milk round

As a milkman I had four hundred customers and most of them were housewives. As a young milkman I suppose it was inevitable that I was going to get some sort of chat up lines and suggestions from them. It was not like the films and most Milkmen I knew were not jumping in and out of customers beds. I really did not have many temptations, it always seemed to be the middle aged woman that chatted me up or wanted help to move some furniture in the bedroom and I easily resisted. My special girls were the really old ones who always seemed to appreciate a visit from the milkman, have a chat and share a cup of tea. One I used to pour the milk into a jug, another always had a jigsaw on the go and one even gave me some broken alarm clocks as a Christmas present for the kids, God Bless her. Part of my round was sheltered accommodation for the elderly. I delivered early in the morning and would call back once a week after delivery to collect the money. They lived in flats and the doors opened onto a shared pathway. On my first call backs I would knock on a door, wait patiently as the customer shuffled to the door. It would open and she would say “Oh it’s the milkman, wait a moment I will get your money”. It took for ever and a day to collect from each call. On my second call back I decided to walk along the path and knock on every door and stand in sight until the first door opened. How they loved that and it also gave them an opportunity to talk to each other. I am sure they looked forward to my weekly visit after that.

I had one special lady who became a good friend. After I had finished I would always call in, have a cup of tea count up my money and check my books. Of course the milk float would be outside her house for some time, but all the milkman including my father who had worked on this round had always done the same thing. I found out many years afterwards that Sophie my first wife had been tracking my activities and had been following my milk float and thought something different was going on. Had she cared to knock on the door she would have found me chatting to Babs, her husband and two rugby playing sons.

As for the young ravishing twenty years old, I delivered to some, but never had any special offers.

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