When the milk still arrived — no matter the weather.
No gritting, no weather warnings, no delays. Just the clink of bottles at dawn, rattling in the back of the float as the milkman made his way down the snow-covered streets — always on time, always smiling.
You’d wake up to frozen windows, slippery pavements, and the quiet magic of a world turned white… but the milk was always there on the doorstep.
A simpler time, when life just carried on — whatever the weather. — in London.