I detest nostalgia. Onwards and upwards is my motto. But just read this From the Derby Telegraph ....
Firstly, there was the milkman. They delivered two pints in exchange for the two plastic Co-op tokens during the hours of darkness – so, however early dad got up for work, it would be there for him.
The newspaper boy appeared, bleary-eyed, at about 6.45am. We all knew him because the job was exchanged among kids from our street. When one was fed up with the early mornings, their round would be snaffled up by someone else keen for a few quid.
Between nine and ten o'clock, Cath, the postwoman would deliver the first post. Cath lived about ten doors away.
She would return later with the second post, just before the newsboy with the evening paper.
During the day the street, so uncluttered of cars that we played football in the middle of it, had a myriad of exotic visits.
Depending on the time of the week and the season, there could have been:
The Alpine pop lorry – this was an unwelcome sight because my mum refused to have fizzy pop in the house and I was jealous of all the families taking delivery of the various different ades… I was a particular fan of lime and cherry.
The mobile grocer – this was run by someone in the street. Aside of fresh fruit and veg, he had penny chews … yum.
The mobile library – I am now starting to appear like a country yokel but this was in the city. Funny how, when there was so much less money, there was funding for this.
The bin men – crikey, these were strong men. Our heavy steel bin was at the bottom of the garden. They heaved it all the way to their truck and put it back where they found it.
The window cleaner. They actually went up ladders. No fancy extended poles for them.
The football pools man and the man from the Pru.
And, of course, the rag and bone men.
Just like Steptoe and Son, they had a horse and cart (later they graduated to a truck) and shouted at the tops of their voices "any old iron''. I hadn't a clue how they made money because I never saw anyone give them anything.
Now it seems like they have made a comeback – much to the apparent dismay of many Derby Telegraph readers.
I'm a bit lost on those who have complained about the shouting or blowing of horns of people trying to earn a living.
The longest they could disturb a resident's peace for would be all of about three minutes.
I think they are carrying out a public service.
Last week we left a broken vacuum cleaner on our drive, just in case the rag and bone man fancied it.
Within 48 hours it was gone, presumably taken by one of those scrap collectors who like a bit of a shout.
Well, I say thanks for saving me a trip to the tip.
Now, if we could just get back to our post being delivered twice a day…
Those were the days!
Anybody else remember the 'pop man'?, milk before you went to work!?, Post before you went to work!? People actually in the street!? Brilliant! Let's have it back please!
