A great day so far and hopefully more to come later. Our Son
went out last night and got back to Shams at four this morning… He should be a
milk man. Haha. For my Bloggets who live abroad, the good old English tradition
of a milkman is so quaint, well used to be. Before my time, a horse and cart
would be used, but then came the electric cart. An electric cart used to drive
through our streets, park up and you would hear the clinking of glass bottles
as the milkman took the pint glass bottles from the crates to drop off at our
door stops. The foil lids used to be in different colours I know one was red
and the ones we used to get were silver. Silver was full cream. I believed that
children should have full cream milk for their bones. Sometimes the magpies
used to peck at the shiny lids so the milk would have to be emptied and then we
had to wash the bottles to recycle again the milkman would pick up the empties
when he dropped the full ones off! The milkmen were into recycling before it
became fashionable or necessary.
As the years went by the things we could get delivered some
would say progressed. I could get a sack of potatoes, yogurts, cream and other
items sometimes fresh orange juice. They were sweet innocent days and I was
fortunate to always live in good areas where no one ever stole from our
doorsteps. But now days there are no glass bottles our milkman delivers the
same plastic large litres you can buy at the grocery shop. Nothing quaint about
that. And the price is three times as much as we can get from a shop.
When I was a child and in my early years of marriage too
when I was in my teens and early twenties, we had a rag and bone man. He used
to come to us down our streets in a cart that was pulled by a horse with a man
steering it shouting Rag and Bone, sometimes just bone and other times n!
You would take him things he could recycle to make money
from and in return he would hand you clothes pegs he would have made. It was up
to us whether we wanted his pegs or not… the cart would be filled up with your
pans, old dishes, bedding anything you didn’t want that he would be able to
make some money from. They were normally gypsies/travellers as we now have to
call them. I’m not sure when gypsies became wrong to say. Why wrong too. I mean
travellers?
I know of people who live in caravans who are typical
gypsies who have not moved for over a year, so, not much travelling going on then….
Guess what the (Travellers/Rag and bone men) come around in
now? a blooming van with a loud speaker on the roof or outside of their window.
When I first heard that, I was shocked. I thought it was to let us know our gas
would be going off or we had a water leak as apart from voting day, that is the
only time we hear a loud speaker from a car with a man shouting stuff at us…
when is as told it was the local rag and bone man? And how times have changed. People
were bringing out old TV’s and so on. In my days it really was old pans…
Now, The Grand National. Hmm. When I was a child I was just
like my baby great Niece who I spoke with yesterday. Super excited to put a
sweep on within the family. I would put my 50p and pick a number or a horse
from the hat at home and between my Mum Dad and big Brother, we would sit in
front of our telly, watching the biggest horse race day of the year in
England, and shout at the TV hoping my horse would win. I never won, my brother
always did. And yesterday my Niece did she was so sweet and happy to tell me of
her winnings. But now I am older, I hate the fact that out of 38 horses who run
that awful race, only 12 finished the race. The other 26 fell, were injured and
so many years horses have had to get put down. It’s heart breaking. Yesterday there
was a screen put around a horse that fell, there are rumours that the horse
died and it’s all been a cover up. 80 horses at least have been killed since
the Grand National began. So, I don’t put money on that race or any other. To make
a horse run so fast for in the horse’s case, no reason, to put blinkers on them
so they can’t see to the sides of their eyes and used to whip them to make them
go faster. How do they train them to go so fast I have to ask myself? It’s very
wrong and I dream of a world where horses can run, but freely and without
anyone on them.
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