Just 2.8% of milk in Britain are delivered to the door, but the
milkmen who keep the cherished tradition alive say they are here to
stay
ST ALBANS, United Kingdom –
Once a daily sight on every British street, a
dwindling but resilient band of milkmen still go out at the crack
of dawn to deliver bottles of fresh milk to the nation's
doorsteps.
The overwhelming majority of milk used
to be sold at the front door until the supermarket revolution all
but wiped out this very British institution.
But by selling more than milk and
embracing the Internet, the few thousand remaining milkmen,
including Neil Garner, have breathed new life into the cherished
tradition.
"It has given us a big boost and brought
us into the 21st century. The future's looking bright," said
Garner, the customer-nominated Milkman of the Year at Milk &
More, the country's biggest doorstep delivery firm.
The 57-year-old has driven his milk
float – an electrified, open-sided delivery van – through towns and
villages in the dead of night since 1994, placing glass pint
(half-liter) bottles of milk on the doorstep ready for when
customers wake for their morning cereal and cups of tea.
"Nowadays, you don't do as many houses
in each street. But we sell a lot of other stuff to the people we
do have," he told AFP.
It's not just breakfast staples like tea
bags, bread, butter, eggs, and bacon that Garner now has on the
back of his float.
Jam, cranberry juice, pet food,
potatoes, and toilet roll are all available. Even bird seed and
compost can be dropped off on the round.
Supermarket
boom
In 1980, 89% of all the milk bought in
Britain was delivered to the door, according to trade association
Dairy UK.
That figure plunged to 30% during the
1990s out-of-town supermarket boom.
In 2015, just 2.8% of milk still went to
the door, a total of 154 million liters, with 5,000 milkmen and
women delivering to around 2.5 million homes.
Garner's round sees him deliver 6 days a
week to St Albans, a small commuter city northwest of
London.
At the depot in nearby Watford, milkmen
load up crates, containing 20 one-pint bottles each, before heading
into the cold at around 2 am.
The blue, green, red, gold, and orange
foil bottle tops mark different types of milk.
Garner's no-frills electric milk float
is slow and exposed to the elements, but the brisk walker likes the
ease of hopping on and off for his 200 to 250
deliveries.
"Snow, ice, floods, in 22 years I've
never not been out due to the weather," the 57-year-old
said.
The early drops are in pitch darkness,
Garner needing a torch to find his way up the garden
paths.
"This is the best part of the day. The
air's fresh and clean, there's no traffic," he said.
The round takes Garner down tiny country
lanes; along suburban avenues; up narrow streets of cottages and
inside blocks of flats. He delivers to industrial estates, schools,
and even a garden shed.
Some customers leave rolled-up notes
with instructions such as "no milk today" or "one extra pint,
please," but most now go online.
"That's the way ahead," said Garner.
"Online facilities have attracted younger people.
A pint of milk, typically 50 pence
($0.70, 65 euro cents) at a supermarket, costs 81 pence.
"There's nothing else you can order
online at 9 pm and get delivered in a couple of hours," Garner
added.
Customers can also phone in orders via a
Philippines call center.
Pillar of
community
"The secret is being punctual. People
like to know their milk will be there at the same time every
morning," said Garner.
He relies on the few other people around
to check his timing, including a man he sees getting on his bicycle
each morning.
"Am I early?" Garner asks.
"One minute early!" the cyclist replies
before setting off.
The last delivery is done at 7:30 am,
before Garner returns through rush-hour traffic to unload his
empties at the depot.
Garner reckons milkmen are a special
breed.
"The milkman is respected. People look
upon you as a friend," he said.
"A lot of the elderly like a chat and I
do things like change lightbulbs for them. Quite often I might be
the only person they see all week.
"It's part of this country's traditions and
people don't want to lose it."
