Whilst milking the goats, as I do every morning, I started to think about my unwritten book and how it is likely to stay that way. And so I decided it was time to reveal its title ‘ I have never been a milkman’
It all stems from the fact that of the of the 30 odd, close to 40 jobs, I have had in my life I was never a milkman. More specifically whilst in my teens I was never able to get onto the lucrative milk round as the milk runner, backwards and forwards between moving float and doorstep, delivering the daily pints of milk to the population of Skipton.
Paperboy, mornings, evenings and Sundays. Holiday barge cleaner on a Saturday. Occasional waiter and washer upper at a local restaurant. A summer season on the fair in Morecombe running the Ghost Train after graduating from Hook a Duck, not to mention spending my free time standing outside a pub on the promenade selling Rubik Cubes In fact by the time I was sixteen I had even stared to work behind the bar at the local Working Mans Club such was the law that allowed 16 years olds to work in private clubs, but I was never a milkman.
Then it dawned on me as I shivered in –7c (19f), eagerly grasping the bulbus warm teats of Monday, the goat, to stop my fingers from freezing, that I have finally made it. My dream come true, my ambition fulfilled. I am a Milkman!