Milkman shows a lotta bottle
At a time when most of us are tucked up in bed, milkman George Hawkes is just starting his day. MARK ANDREWS climbs on board his float to see what it's like on an early morning milk round.
IT'S 4am and George Hawkes is bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, having taken advantage of his lie-in. "Stop yawning, you're making me tired," quips George, who has been a milkman for around 12 years.
"Monday's are our busiest day, I start at 2.30 in the morning, Tuesdays and Thursdays are quieter, its just something that you get used to. I can usually get by with three or four hours sleep. I wouldn't do it if I didn't like it,"
Despite the anti-social hours, George - whose round takes him around the Codsall and Wolverhampton areas - says he loves the job. But doesn't he ever long for a nice, steady office job with regular hours?
"Why would I want to be an office tart?" he chuckles. "I worked in the depot for a bit and I hated it. I couldn't do an office job."
"I was made redundant at 42, and when I went for jobs they told me I was too old," he says. "I was a bit depressed then and a mate said I could help him. I did that for a couple of years, and then I got a job."
And although his factory job was better paid and involved an 8am start, he much prefers his new life.
"There's no way I would want to go back indoors now. I would miss the fresh air and meeting people."
George's first task of the day is to pick up the milk from the depot in Stafford. George works for Dairy Farmers of Great Britain, a farmers' co-operative, which collects the milk from its member farms before processing it at its main dairy in Uttoxeter. The milk is delivered to the depot a few hours before the start of George's round, and it falls to the night-picker to count out the supplies for the different rounds.
Once the wagon has been loaded it is time to hit the road - in a diesel milk float. The traditional electric floats only have a range of 20 to 25 miles, so they can only be used in the immediate vicinity of the depot.
"You're warmer in a diesel," he adds, saying the main advantage of the electric floats is that they are more economical.
We arrive at our first stop, Millennium Way in Codsall, at 5.15am. I comment that the weather seems unseasonally warm, and notice that George has left his coat on the seat.
"It gets colder when it starts to get light," he says. "People don't believe me when I say that, but it does."
George is a quick mover, and within seconds he is back within his cab, where he enters the details of his delivery into his computer. Yes, a computer - the days of the dog-eared pocket book and the pen behind the ear are a thing of the past, with all the orders now recorded on a hand-held electronic device.
By 5.20am, George has already called at five different addresses. He says this is one of the better rounds, but you always have to be vigilant. He remembers feeling particularly uncomfortable when he worked on Wolverhampton's Scotlands estate a few years ago, at the height of its troubles with anti-social behaviour.
"There was a 9.30 curfew in the area, but you still saw people around," he says. "They knew you were collecting the money, and would go 'stop mate', but you don't stop.
"I don't wear the money bag, I think that would be asking for trouble." George says youths stealing milk off the back of the float is another occupational hazard you have to be aware of."
By 6am, George has moved on to Tettenhall, and it is there that he reveals one of his pet hates.
"I can't stand it when they don't wash the bottles out," he says. "You put your fingers in them and they're all sticky."
An hour later the birds are singing as dawn breaks out over Codsall. As George predicted, the temperature seems to have dropped considerably. He has doubled back on his round because some of the customers pay their bills before they go to work.
George pays a visit to one of his favourite customers, who tips him a pound a week and £10 at Christmas. "You don't get many people like that," he says. "Even if it's only 10p, it shows you're appreciated."
Daylight has truly broken out as he makes his way round Pendeford, Aldersley and Oxley, where he will stop and chat with many of his regular customers. Milkmen are usually portrayed on television as cheeky, Jack The Lad wideboys - think Benny Hill's Ernie, or Robin Askwith's accident-prone Dave Deacon in the sit-com Bottle Boys.
But George is nothing like them. "I've never been propositioned, but then again you wouldn't with a face like mine," he wisecracks.
George is an easy-going yet jovial character. He genuinely seems to love chatting with the people he meets on his rounds.
But surely there is something he dislikes about the job?
"The worst part is when it is pelting it down with rain and you can't get dry. You find the people that don't want to talk to you in the summer will keep you on the doorstep for ages when it's raining."
He also acknowledges that the hours he worked has had an impact on his family life. "My son Jonathon is 18 now, and basically I missed out on his upbringing," says George, with a tinge of sadness. "When I worked in the factory I was working long hours too."
At 9.05 George makes his last call in Chester Street, Whitmore Reans, and produces a computer print-out of his activities for the day. He has delivered around 150 bottles to 122 homes, and by the time he returns to the depot, he will have travelled 61 miles. But it is a quiet day - on the busiest day of the week he will call at 377 properties.
On our return to the depot, George plugs his computer into the system, and completes his paperwork.
It is nearly the end of a hard day's work. He will go home to rest for a few hours before going out in the afternoon to collect the money from his customers. At least he won't have to start work until 3am the next day.
