Popular milkman puts lid on long career

FOR many local people, the regular arrival of Brian Breen’s milk van was a symbol that even in a rapidly changing world, some things remain constant.

Three times a week, for 70 years, people could tell the time by the sound of Breen’s engine running outside – originally it was just John, until after 28 years he was joined by his son Brian.

But as sure as day follows night, and flowers bloom in spring – Monday, Wednesday and Friday, a Breen was there; their service part of the cycle of life around Omagh.

But even the Earth itself will stop spinning some day, and tomorrow (Friday), Brian will make his last milk run, bringing an end to an era.

Speaking with Brian, this is a time for celebration, not sorrow – as his customers say a solemn farewell to a local institution, the Omagh man looks forward to a new chapter.

Before Brian embraced the family trade, his father John had run the business for 32 years on his own.

“My father worked hard and refused to ever let anyone down – he would never miss a run.” said Brian.

“I started out delivering with him when I was 17.”

Some children shrivel under the shadow cast by parents of renowned reputation, but Brian embraced the burden of expectation that came with following in his father’s footsteps, but such high standards are maintained at a cost.

“There was time when I decided it would be a great idea to get another van on the road.” says Brian, half smiling, half wincing.

The plan was, Brian would do one run, and he would employ a new recruit to do the other.

Brian went on, “That would be grand for a few weeks until the new man would get complacent, and think, ‘sure a couple of pints (of beer!) won’t hurt.”

“Then it would be sore head this, not well that…sometimes they’d tell you straight, ‘I’m dying’.”

It wasn’t long before Brian scaled back to the one van. Money isn’t everything.

“Chatting about money,” says Brian, “the odd house used to try to pull a crafty one and get their milk for nothing.

“My father use to say he once went to a house to collect the money and was greeted by a wee girl who told him ‘sorry Mr, but Mummy isn’t in.’

“Dad asked, ‘What time will she be back?’ to which the young girl replied, ‘Hold on ‘til I go upstairs and ask her.’

Brian has gathered some yarns over the years – sitting with wee Gerry O’Donnell, a fellow milkman, he says they could have laughed for hours about stories from the milk runs.

“Myself, Gerry, and the big breadman, Charlie Donnelly, used to go to a pub on Castle Street to collect our wages on the same day – if you walked into the toilets a few hours after our arrival you could see the three of us with the money bags slung over the shoulders,” he laughed.

While some people might feel they owe Brian a pint, and others might still owe him for a delivery 30 years ago, one of Brian’s customers quite literally owe their life to him.

“I noticed one of my customer’s bottles sitting on their doorstep from one delivery to the next,” he said.

Brian phoned the police who arrived, broke the window, and found the man unwell upstairs. He was sent to hospital.

The man eventually went into a nursing home – he and Brian have kept in touch, almost every week since.

“I’ll miss a lot of my old friends from the milk run, because I always seen them as more friends that customers,” said Brian.

But now that the popular milkman has been liberated from the routine that stopped him traveling and visiting, he is heading off to America to see his brothers who he has seldom seen over the last few decades.

“I’m looking forward to enjoying the rest of my life while I’m still fit and healthy,” Brian concluded.

BY EMMET McELHATTON

e.mcelhatton@ulsterherald.com