“Drink your milk!” our teachers used to say,
but our milk bottle crates had stood all day,
in the years of free milk, out in the sun.
There were bits on the top, yuk – not much fun!
In depths of winter the iced cream would zoom
up through the silver top in a mushroom.
We would have to wait until the ice would thaw
before we could manage to use our straw.
Thatcher snatched away free milk years later
and every mum in England did hate her.
But my free milk had put me off it for life.
Now I eat cheese instead, cut with a knife!