It is not everyday you get compared to a milkman’s horse. When I go out with him, hubby says I am like one. Now, I cannot remember a milkman’s horse, I am sure they were hard workers and very biddable animals. The suggestion is, according to Hubby, at every stopping point, the horse, (not the milkman) socialised with the householders, or the people who queued for their cans of milk. I have no way of actually knowing, as that type of house-to-house, or, street- to- street milk marketing would have happened before I was aware of it.

So, what prompted this seemingly uncomplimentary suggestion. Where I live, it is usual to acknowledge people you see, whether you know them or not; you might even exchange a word or two, perhaps, even, have a chat. What has this to do with a milkman’s horse, I hear you ask?

We passed a guy waiting for an inter-city bus yesterday. After initial polite salutations, it was clear that the man was Canadian. He and I got into conversation very quickly. Hubby disappeared from sight. The man probably learned as much about me and some of the life of the area he was leaving, as I learned about him.

This afternoon when we went out for a walk, we passed a house in the street where we live, where, the patio windows were unusually, open. A woman was mopping the floor, and a cute lapdog sat nearby. Not for long, it came rushing to me, and in its evident haste misjudged its movements and hit itself on the wall. It was naturally a bit dazed, even so, it allowed me to pet it. The lady cleaning up was moving out, she had lived there – invisibly – more than a year. Invisibility was what she preferred, being a bit of a troglodyte, she said. For all that, she was keen to talk, to tell me about her American life, what she missed and did not miss after nineteen years in the U.K. The move, like all moves, was an upheaval, but, she was only going five miles away to a cheaper property. I learned that poor heart health with a concomitant reduction in income had necessitated the retrenchment.

what is there to dislike about a milkman’s horse? In my humble view, if I am like the milkman’s horse of yore, the horse must have been a remarkably sociable companion.



  1. Not enough people are Milkman’s horses in my opinion (not that I’d ever heard that before but still). I think that it’s great that you take a few minutes to chat to people. What a better way to brighten your day or expand your horizon than by acknowledging a fellow human being and having a quick natter!

    • Hello, thanks for stopping by and making a comment. It is much appreciated.

      I agree with you, sharing a few moments with people who are happy to share them, brightens up the day. In anonymous large towns and cities it is more unusual to interact this way, though speaking from experience, it can be done.


  2. I’d never hearsd that expression before, but like you rather fancy being like a milkman’s horse!
    I’m just the same, I chat to all our neighbours, and Hubs says it’s like an Arab market around here the way we all exchange fruit, veg, plants and pies!xxxxx

    • Aren’t perceptions interesting, snowbird. There were people here who used to gift excess garden veggies to neighbours. I haven’t seen it for a few years now. Sis-in-law usually shares some of hers; the ‘bartering’ currency we have sometimes, is fish.

      xxx 😉

      • I usually provide the fruit and veg and get pies and soups in return, along with our other neighbours. I also bring eggs back from the rescue and the neighbours love them as they are fresh and free range! And palnts and cutting fly over fences here!lol xxxxx

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