There was a time when the morning started with a familiar sound:
the quiet rattle of the milkmanβs float and the clink of glass bottles on the doorstep. You didn’t go to the supermarket for everything; the ‘freshness’ came to you.
We remember the gold or silver foil tops, and how the cream always rose to the top.
It was a simpler time when you knew your milkman by name, and a ‘subscription’ was just a note left in an empty bottle.