Can the neighbourhood milkman really survive and thrive in the era of the convenience store?
IT’S 7AM AND already milkman Tony O’Mahony has three hours work behind him and between deliveries he calls friends and family and warns them of the treacherous roads. Every few yards, he pulls up his milk truck – most houses take between one and three litres of milk – gets out, and skates and slides his way up driveways or down side lanes to deliver the cartons and the odd newspaper.
Every delivery is completed from memory and with over 100 houses on this leg of his milk round, it’s an impressive mental feat. Not only does Tony know what combination and quantity of milk each household wants, he also knows where they want the milk left. “Everybody has their own place for the milk. Some like it on the right-hand side of the door, others just inside the porch. In one house, I bring the milk around the back and put the paper in the front porch,” he says. “There was even a woman years ago who had an old fridge built into the ditch and you’d just pull up and open the door.”
With the increasing urbanisation of rural life, local postmen, shop owners and milkmen, such as Tony, are an important form of contact for many elderly inhabitants. Over the years, Tony says, he has developed a unique bond with his customers. “You get to know people well at the doorstep. I’ve been to various removals and funerals. And then you come back and deliver less milk. It’s sad,” he says. “I know everyone around here. You get to know the whole family, sons and daughters and what they are doing, whether they are in school or college or working. Elderly people would often leave notes. I got a note one time from a lady in her 80s asking would I contact Eircom for her because her phone was out of action.
“And people forget that in the recent bad weather most milkmen still delivered around the country.”
Tony has been doing his run for over 12 years, having inherited the route from two brothers. In recent years, milkmen have had to contend with misplaced cultural stereotypes of their profession, from Benny Hill's Ernie to Father Ted's despicable lothario Pat Mustard, who delivers chaos to the female population of Craggy Island. Of course, the reality is that delivering milk is often a solitary act, beginning at ungodly hours, and the chances of encountering desperate housewives (or husbands) are slim to say the least.
“That was before my time I can assure you!” says Tony of the supposed sexual prowess of the humble milkman. “Buddies still slag me about it though. Twelve years after getting the job they still bring it up. It’s just a stereotype, none of it is true.” Tony does admit to one occasion when he was pounced upon midway through his morning rounds, leading to an awkward standoff. “I was pinned to the wall one time by an Alsatian,” he says, “He had his two paws up on my shoulders staring into my face. The owner came out and she was saying, ‘ah sure, he’s only a pet’. I was shaking like a leaf at this stage. In general though, the dogs are okay.”
It’s debatable whether or not Tony and others like him are part of the last generation of Irish milkmen. Some argue that the profession is undergoing a resurgence, particularly in urban areas. Certainly over the last century, as the local shop and supermarket became more ubiquitous, the number of milkmen declined, particularly in rural areas, and many routes were left un-serviced for the first time in generations.
At the beginning of the 1900s, milk would be delivered to homes twice daily in some areas, but the spread and frequency of milk deliveries had declined significantly by the latter half of the 20th century. Now dairies such as Glanbia would have us believe that milkmen are back in vogue, particularly in urban areas of the country. The statistics, though, paint a somewhat bleaker picture. For example, in 1978, 65 per cent of all milk consumed in Ireland was delivered to doorsteps. Last year, that figure had declined to 5.6 per cent. Glanbia, who account for about 60 per cent of all doorstep deliveries in Ireland, employed somewhere in the region of 700 milkmen in the 1980s. Currently, that figure is down to roughly 275.
Despite that decline, milk is still delivered to about 70,000 homes in Ireland every week – that’s more than 420,000 litres of milk delivered to doorsteps. A spokesperson for Glanbia said of the changing trends, “Doorstep deliveries had dwindled over the past number of years but have seen a revival in the past couple of years. During 2009, there was a definite up-swing in demand. This follows a current trend whereby consumers want to be part of real communities that offer a sense of belonging.”
But, with the spread of local shops and the increase in car ownership, why would householders still want milk delivered to their door? “I think people will do a weekly shop and get everything in,” says Tony O’Mahony, “But milk is bulky. You can’t go along and buy 20 litres of milk. It’ll take up too much space. So they get it in twos and threes delivered to the door every day. It’s still far handier.”
Robert Ashe, a BB owner in Dingle, Co Kerry, says two separate milkmen once serviced his area, but that is no longer the case. He remains unconvinced that the rural milkman has a future.
“There is no milk being delivered here now door-to-door, as far as I know. There was a time when they’d even be delivering it on the main street in Dingle town. Everyone has cars now and people are constantly going to the shop. Years ago, the ordinary people wouldn’t have been so consumerist.”
Back in Cork, it’s close to 8am and Tony O’Mahony is coming to the end of his door-to-door deliveries. His day is not finished though – he will make deliveries to shops and businesses, before clocking off at 1pm.
“Life has totally changed over the last 30 or 40 years and there are far more supermarkets around,” he says, “The actual time of our work has changed too. Milkmen used to go out at one o’clock in the morning and finish at 7am. There are fewer houses to be done now so we go out later.”
As to thoughts of retirement, Tony says he will stay working as long as he is able. And will his children take over the milk run when he retires?
“Oh I don’t know about that. Unlikely I’d say,” he says, “Although my small fella, who is only 10, is talking about being a milkman when he grows up. That or an accountant.”
