An Ode to a Milkmaid's Deliverer

Last week I travelled back to my old Family home in a quaint little village in the heart of rural Leicestershire. During my visit I bumped into an old friend of the family; "Nev".

After exchanging pleasantries as you do when you haven't seen someone for a good number of years, Nev proceeded to remind me about a note my late Father had once written to him.

Where's the story, I hear you ask. Well first a little background is in order and we'll start with Nev himself. I have known Nev for pretty much all of my life (discounting the baby years where memories are hazy to say the least) as have many of the residents and former residents of Gilmorton. This is because, back when I was a small boy, Nev, was the village Milkman. This was back in the day when milk was delivered to your doorstep in the early hours of the morning by a cheerful fellow wearing an apron and driving an electric milk float. The common practice during this golden era, was to leave a hastily scrawled note, wedged into an empty glass milk bottle, advising the jolly Milkman of the quantity of milk you required. Admittedly there were some more affluent types who had milk bottle holders with a small numbered dial to indicate this preference but alas we were not one of those types.

Anyway, to set the scene...My Mum was in hospital (giving birth to me no less) and my Dad left the customary note for the milkman aka Nev. But this was no normal note, after all Nev has kept said note in his possession for 33 years. So after all these years I am delighted to bring to you my Dad's "note to the milkman"

An Ode to a Milkmaid's Deliverer

For 3 days now my wife has lain
In hospital because of pain
And I, without a single moan
Do find myself, alas, alone

Each day before a golden dawn
I hear you walk across my lawn
And then do see out at my door
A beverage from the days of yore

Useful though I find this milk
And do regard it's taste like silk
I do believe my bowels, as such
Are bored by having just too much

On Saturday I filled fridge door
On Sunday stacked it on the floor
Alas on Monday, at the brink
I had to fill the kitchen sink

When Tuesday came, cat died in bed
Upon the milk it was o'er fed
How can I stop this endless flow
For Wednesday dealt another blow

By now I had so much, you see
I had a call from the M.M.B
They simply had to ask me how
I managed to out-milk the cow

Now Thursday comes and I do see
When having had a simple P___
I give the mighty chain a pull
And find the bleedin' cistern full

Now Neville, dear, I have to ask
Though, in this milk, I love to bask
I feel I really have to say-
Thanks, but PLEASE NO BLOODY MILK TODAY!


This just goes to show what a wonderful character my Dad was as well as demonstrating the difference he made to the lives of others. How many former milkman can say they have a note in their possession that someone left for them over 30 years ago?



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