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Former Co-op Dairy milkman Frank Nix, of Alvaston, recalls life on the delivery rounds, where customers offered him cups of tea, hot dinners, a glass of festive spirit and, occasionally, something a little saucier.

A group of milkmen who took part in a 12-mile charity walk in 1977

On a July day in 1964, a cocky 25-year-old ex-Teddy Boy walked into the Co-op Dairy depot in Fox Street and asked for a job.

It was a move I have I never regretted. The gentleman I spoke to, a Mr Albert Champion, asked: “Where are you working now?”

“Loco works,” I replied. “But I want to work outdoors.”

He told me to go for a driving test in Woods Lane, then to come back and see him. Two hours later, I returned a deflated man, having failed the driving test.

“Don’t worry,” Albert replied, “anybody can drive a milk float. Can you start Monday?” I was delighted.

“My surname is Nix,” I told him, “but everybody calls me Nixey. See you on Monday.”

Monday morning soon arrived and I found myself on the Ashbourne run with Pete Rockley for one week. On collecting day, he asked me to get the money from one particular house but warned me to be careful. I soon found out why. I knocked on the door and took the money but the woman made a suggestion which I had to decline. I was happily married.

The following week, I was with Dave Millet on the Milford run. One day, I felt bemused when he instructed me to put jam jars on top of the bottles outside one house.

Apparently, blue tits used to break the seal on the gold top milk and drink the cream; hence the jam jars. A few weeks later, I was asked if I would like to join the Co-op Dairy football team. They must have liked me because I became a regular player for about four or five years.

The Co-op Dairy football team at the Co-op Sports Ground, off Valley Road, in 1966, wearing black armbands and holding a minute's silence for a team member killed on his round

Out of the blue though, a tragic accident claimed one of our players. One morning, Dennis Thorpe, the team’s goalkeeper, was killed while delivering milk. We played the following match wearing black armbands in his memory.

Another occasion which stands out for me was the day I was given my own round on Brackens Lane and Boulton Lane. It was a nice little number and I felt like the “king of the road”. There were 11 tea stops and a cooked dinner on Fridays. I soon narrowed that down to one, though.

I remember Bill Gratton the chief cashier, as a very well organised man. On pay day we had to check in the money we had collected from our customers. If any of the pound notes were upside down or back to front, Bill would send you to the back of the queue to sort them out.

My first Christmas on the milk round was all a bit of a blur. I was out partying with friends on Christmas Eve until about 4.30am, then it was straight home, a quick change and out of the door for a 6am start.

Customers had left tots of brandy and whisky on the doorstep for me to drink as a seasonal goodwill gesture. There were no police checks in those days but then again, fortunately, there was very little traffic on the road at that time on Christmas Day morning.

Every January, the summer holiday roster went up on the board. One year, my two weeks’ holiday was scheduled in February. What a joke! I quickly managed to find someone whose holiday was booked for August and slipped him a few quid to swap.

After a while on my round, the customers started calling me “the memory man” because I knew everyone’s check number. What they didn’t know was that I used to write it on a wall or door at their house where they couldn’t see it.

In 1971, I think, the Government started one of the biggest swindles of all time – decimalisation. All the roundsmen went on a two-hour course to get used to the new currency. I did hear that three elderly ones left after a while because they just could not grasp it.

I didn’t know all the roundsmen, due to the fact that you all started and finished at different times during the day. But I still see Jack Ashley from time to time and he is still always immaculately dressed. Other names I remember are Dick Ayre, Arthur Pacey, Alf Tempest, Frank Odell and Jack Taylor.

After 10 years being a milkman, which was a fantastic job, I felt ready for a change so I left, ready to travel the road of life again and do something different.

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County:  Derbyshire

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