By Marie Carroll O'Sullivan.

So, what does almost four decades on the road as a milkman look like when it finally comes to a halt?

I met Mike O’Connor at his home in Kilcummin, where the kettle was on and the tea flowed easily, with a generous dash of Lee Strand milk, of course. The very same milk Mike delivered to homes, businesses and schools across Killarney, Barraduff, Beaufort, Firies and beyond for nearly 40 years.

“I started out, and that same weekend was my sister Helen’s wedding,” he smiled. “There was no easing into it.”

Taking over from his brother Seamus (RIP), it marked the beginning of a lifetime of early mornings, familiar roads and even more familiar faces.

“The house deliveries have quietened down,” he said. “Families were bigger before. Now everyone is out working.”

His daughter Michelle recalled the famous “book” from the early years, a detailed diary of every house on the route. “You’d nearly need a degree to follow it,” she laughed, though Mike had it down to a tee.

“I’d do little jobs along the way too, bring a Killarney Advertiser from Daly’s or a few RTÉ Guides to James in the Fairview.”

It wasn’t just delivery, it was connection.

“I had great helpers down through the years,” Mike said, naming family members Moss, Cathal, Michelle, Lauren and Fiadh, along with friends and neighbours who all played their part. A real community effort.

Cards from customers were dotted around the house. One from the Doody family read:
“We have raised six children who never went without milk in their bottles or for their cereals before school.”

A simple message that says it all.

There were plenty of stories, too.

“One time a house was broken into,” Mike laughed, “they took jewellery but left the jar of change for me.”

“There were lighter moments as well,” he added.

“I was out one night and a fella, Podge Rourke, insisted on buying me a drink. I hadn’t a clue why.”

Podge reminded him of his First Holy Communion day. When he opened the door in his little communion suit to receive my daily milk delivery, I added a bob or two for his special day.

“Sure, I don't remember these things, but wasn't it lovely that he did?” Mike smiled.

Then more quietly, he recalled a man who stopped him to say his mother had passed, remembering the excitement of running to the door as a child when he’d see Mike coming.
“That was lovely.”

“A bit of everything,” Mike said of the job. “Tying school ties, fixing lawnmowers, passing messages.”

During the COVID-19 pandemic, that role meant even more.

“I delivered milk and conversation. People were frightened. I had time to stop and chat, the roads were so much quieter too.”

He credits Lee Strand as “an excellent group to work with,” and in a line that sums up decades of trust,

“I left without owing a bob, and there was nothing owed to me either.”

Time off was rare. In all those years, Mike took just one week away while his wife covered the route.

Even a trip to the Aran Islands turned into an adventure of breakdowns and nonstop phone calls.

“You couldn’t write it,” he laughed.

So what now?
“I want to see what it’s like to do nothing. I’m 69, and tomorrow is promised to no one.”
After 40 years of early mornings, loyal customers and a route that rarely missed a beat, Mike O’Connor has finally clocked off.

Though knowing Mike, he won’t stay idle for long, but at least now the only schedule he has to keep is his own.