down memory lane

["Edith S. Love" <elove@xxxxxxx>]

Good morning, Harry,

This morning this was in the mail from Alf who lives in England.  I thought
your students might be interested.

>Most people don't believe this story, especially as I am only 50.... but as
>a child in an English country village, mornings were heralded by the crisp
>'clip clop' of the horse's hooves as it pulled the milk float down the road.
>The horse new exactly where to stop, and how long for, so that the milko
>could deliver each house supply. If the milko got chatting to a householder,
>the horse would wait his appointed time and then plod on, leaving the milko
>breathlessly swearing as he caught up. It was only in the last years of the
>previous decade that this team had changed over to bottles. They used to
>deliver fresh milk from the churn, ladeling it into each householder's bowl.
>Even in my youth you could still ask the milko to bring a 'quart of fresh'
>which would arrive in a billy can, straight from the cow. People wouldn't
>drink it these days, much too good for them, real taste! I remember when
>they retired the milko and his horse. Then the mornings were opened by the
>whine of the electric float and the rattle of crates. But for several more
>years, the milko walked his horse around the route every day. After years of
>having to go out in all weathers, they just couldn't break the routine.
>There is an end to all things and the milko passed away. I'm told the horse
>used to wait at the gate to its field every day, ready to go out 'on the
>round', until it too passed on. And now we all buy our milk in cartons from
>the supermarket and such scenes have passed into history along with the
>little birds that used to peck through the bottle tops on icy mornings, to
>steal the cream.
>Alf
>Adelaide
>50 <1 48
>
>