I remember the rag and bone man that used to come round West End when I was a child. He looked like a Gypsy, or what I thought a Gypsy should look like, with longish black greasy hair and he used to shout, "Rrrrragggg a bo-o-o-one. Hany old hiron". I thought he must have a wonderful life and, when I was very little, I wanted to be a rag and bone woman when I grew up.
I remember the horse drawn milk float too. Our local farmer, Bill Whalley (his horse was a grey called Bonny), used to let me ride in the float sometimes - I was
so proud when he did. He came round twice a day, early morning and in the afternoon, because we didn't have fridges then and in Summer your milk, if you hadn't drunk it, could be "off" after a few hours. When Bill had to retire through ill-health his sons took over the round but it wasn't the same - they delivered milk in a trailer on the back of a Daimler. Well I never said they were poor farmers, did I?
