Hunt the milk bottle

Doorstep milk delivery is an old and honourable British tradition, and one that, as a person with visual impairment, I particularly value. So why has it proved so difficult of late to get the dairy to leave the milk in a place where I can actually find it?

I have had milk delivered to my front door for many years. It is convenient. I can’t easily get to the shops so it suits me to have the dairy bring milk, fruit juice and yoghurts to my house.

When I first moved to my current home in Swindon, the milk was generally left on top of the gas meter by the front door. This turned out to be an invitation to passing milk thieves, however, especially when I was late rising on Saturday mornings, so I purchased a lidded box for the milk to go in. I put it by my front door with a label on it clearly stating that it was for milk and postal deliveries. This worked well. The person delivering the milk knew where to leave it and I knew where to find it.

Last week, though, my milk delivery person started to do his or her own thing. One day, they left the milk by the gate, where I couldn’t find it. Fortunately, on this occasion, a friend saw it and brought it in for me. On another day, the milk was left behind the box, where I could find it but, thanks to the restrictions placed on me following my hip and leg bone replacement, I couldn’t bend down to pick it up. In the end I had to call my neighbour for help.

Frustrated by all this, I emailed the dairy and complained. I explained yet again that I am blind and have limited mobility. I cannot go crawling round my garden hunting for the milk, especially as I can’t pick it up even if I find it. (I should mention that my box stands on another box, so I don’t have to bend down to get the milk out of it.)

The next time, they left the milk on top of the gas meter. I hadn’t expected it to be there and so didn’t find it. Later in the day, my kind postlady rang the bell. She didn’t have to. The letter would have gone through the mail flap but she was worried about me as the milk hadn’t been taken in. I thanked her profusely.

By this point, though, I had already emailed the dairy again. “I imagine my milk is somewhere in my garden,” I wrote. “I haven’t found it yet.” I stated that I expected an apology for the inconvenience.

Instead, they phoned me back.

The gentleman from the dairy said, “Have you found your milk?”

“The postlady found it, thank you,” I replied.

He then asked, “Do you leave your empty bottles in the box?”

“Yes,” I replied, “and there are about a dozen in there now because no one has been taking them away.”

“Ah, but the milkman can’t put his hand in the box in the dark in case there is broken glass in there,” he said. “It’s a health and safety issue”.

Now, what chump has been putting broken glass in their milk container? When did this rule come in? And why didn’t someone tell me the first time I emailed?

Unfortunately, all these questions only came to me after I had put the phone down.

I did say I would stop putting empty bottles in the box.

On Saturday, all went well. I put the empty bottles on top of the gas meter and the milkperson left my milk in the box.

On Tuesday, I stepped outside to take in the milk and promptly kicked one of the bottles over. It was on the ground right outside my front door. I was incandescent with rage. Fortunately, it didn’t break. I had to break my surgeon’s rules and bend down to pick the milk bottles up. I didn’t want to bother my neighbour again.

I did email the dairy, though, for all the good it did.

Today, the milk was on the gas meter. I only found it because I put my hand there to check that they had taken the empty bottles.

This is getting ridiculous.

What is particularly irritating is that there is a space on the account to put delivery instructions. I have, of course, entered instructions, but what is the point if they don’t read them? I am following their instructions. Why can’t they follow mine?

I wait to see what reply I get to my latest terse communication, but I’m not a happy bunny.

Good news: I do have something to be cheerful about. I have had my second post-op X-ray and I am finally allowed to bend my legs now! I am writing this today wearing shoes which I have done up myself. I can’t tell you how exciting that is!