Silver Tops

Leaf 139 – Looking Back

 

Ronald Lampitt - The Door-Step Milk Thief (1966)

When I was growing up in the UK, our milk used to be delivered early in the morning by a milkman from the local dairy, driving a ‘milk float.’ This was an electric vehicle which used to trundle through the streets slowly and silently, except for a low whir from its motor and the soft chink of glass bottles when it came to a stop. The milkman used to leave the pint-sized bottles of milk on the doorstep during the early hours, usually before the residents of the street were out of bed. Opening the front door to fetch the milk for breakfast, along with collecting the post from the doormat, were the first tasks of the day. Sometimes in the winter, however, you might find that someone else had beaten you to it. The milk bottles were sealed with colour-coded tin foil: Silver for full cream; Silver and Red Stripes for semi-skimmed; Red for skimmed. If the foil was pierced it was a sure sign that your milk had been raided by a blue tit. These small birds were adept at poking a hole in the foil in order to get at the cream which naturally rose to the top of the milk bottle. Discovering the milk had been cheekily raided in this manner was always something which brought a smile to our faces.

 

 

Early bird

catches the cream

– winter sunrise.

 

 

Harry Wingfield - The Milkman (1962)