Interview With A Milkman -1996- -2021- -

(He pulls a crinkled, faded route sheet from his wallet. It is worn to tissue paper.)

I think people will miss the idea of the milkman. They miss the trust. In 1996, you could leave a fiver under the bottle and trust no one would take it. You could trust that the milk was from a cow two miles away, not a powder boat from Holland. You could trust that if you were sick, the bloke with the float would notice.

By 2010, the depot went from 14 lads to 4. Me, Pete the Snail (he was slow), young Liam, and old Barry. We were carrying the whole route on our backs. The electric floats were falling apart. I had to re-wire my own brake lights with tape. Interview With A Milkman -1996- -2021-

The first stop was Mrs. Alvarez on Elm Street. She’d been a customer since 1989. She came to the door. She was crying. She handed me a card. She said, "Who’s going to check on me now, Arthur?" I told her to call the council. We both knew the council wouldn't come.

(Laughs, shakes his head) Cold. Always cold. But a good cold. In ’96, we had that big freeze in February. I remember the milk was freezing in the bottles on the step before people woke up. The cream would push the silver foil cap up like a little white hat. (He pulls a crinkled, faded route sheet from his wallet

By 2018, Arthur was the sole remaining milkman covering a district that once required three full-time vans. He worked seven days a week. Christmas Day was the only day off. We arrive at the final year. The world has changed. COVID-19 turned people into hermits, and for a brief, bizarre moment in April 2020, the milkman was a hero again. "People were scared to go to the shops," Arthur recalls. "I was ticking up. Had 150 customers for a month. The most in decades."

Tell me about your last day. April 12th, 2021. In 1996, you could leave a fiver under

Take me back to a Tuesday morning in 1996. What does it feel like?