Pat tells me that you are very experienced in matters of milk delivery controversy.
I need your advice now before things get worse. It's not just a question of milk, as such. It is the whole atmosphere of suspicion and distrust.
It all started over Christmas when I thought our milkman had charged for a pint of milk he had not delivered. He agreed to withdraw the charge but, to my mind, he did so reluctantly.
In the day which followed I started to keep a close watch on him. I thought I noticed signs of resentment and distrust. You know the sort of thing: banging down bottles or artificially cheerful whistling. He was very careful never to give an overt sign of hostility.
The atmosphere of antagonism began to get on my nerves. I could even "taste it in the milk", as they say. Eventually, I decided to be positive, end the tension and – if possible – restore the former state of concord. I waited until I was due to pay my next bill.
On the day, he moved swiftly up the path and rang the bell. Then, as I opened the door to confront him, he quite deliberately pulled out an order book and examined it. I paid him, and as he hastily turned away, I called "Excuse me". He turned. "Yes? You gotta problem?" he asked. This was my chance!
"Look!" I exclaimed. "I recognise that every relationship has its highs and lows. There are good times and bad. But he quality of our contractual amity is proved, nay strengthened, by the way we settle those irritating little differences which test our sodality."
The milkman said "Eh?" He could have been genuinely puzzled. I advanced towards him, my arm outstretched in friendship. "Let's put the past behind us!" I said warmly. "Let's restore that sense of chumminess which we had recently. Let the clear light of cheerful candour shine from our eyes! And who knows?" I affirmed, as I reached out to grasp his arm. "It may be that we can become contract buddies in the milk distribution game . . ."
But my milkman had swiftly sneaked away. He lacked that candour and openness that must characterise all our milk transactions.
I still see him about the place. Occasionally, I see him talking to neighbours. But he will not talk to me. Naturally, I've asked the postman about it, but he pleads ignorance.
My dilemma is whether to leave the matter there or whether to write to his superiors. Your advice will be valued and of course accepted on a confidential basis.
Yours,
