Delivery men

Delivery men

These shops were augmented by travelling purveyors of various merchandise, mainly food. The earlier ones of my memory were horse drawn but these were soon superceded by the motor van. These vans did most of their business in the remote fen areas. People looked forward to the delivery days for these chaps carried the local news with them, picking up another titbit at each call. Breakfast television had nothing on them. You knew who had died before they were cold; you had a good idea who was going to die tomorrow-"They didn't expect him to get through the night" so you wrote him off. The tale gathered strength and it was not unusual in the Fen to hear that someone had died three times before they were finally buried.

Forthcoming births were the real news. News that a newly wed couple were expecting was eagerly awaited; rapid calculations were made. I think it was not by chance that humans have then fingers. If you had one over it was alright, more than that-oh dear! ... One also heard of urgent wedding plans, one hand sufficed, that was really news. The travelling tradesmen knew it all- is it any wonder that they got a cup of tea at every house? They must have had bladders like oxen but they could certainly tell a good tale.

My earliest recollections of milk deliveries in the village were that milk was taken around in big pails and delivered into jugs placed on the doorstep. Measures hung in the pail suspend from the rim by their hooked end, a pint and a half measure. Len Hopkin served the major part of the village and Florrie Garner did Lawn Lane. The Harrison brothers of the Lawns Dairies brought us into the 20th Century when they made bottled milk available to all. We now look forward to paralysed milk from France which keeps forever and tastes like reclaimed custard.