I was 3 years old living in Park Road Bearwood. We had a horse drawn milk cart and the horse was my friend. He was called Balladin. Everyday I would ask my mom for a crust of bread and I would sit outside on the kerb stone, feet in the gutter waiting for him. I could hear him clip clopping up St Mary's road and I thought I would burst with excitement. Balladin was very big and I was very small but he would always stop right next to me. I would reach up as high as I could and he would bow hus head and gently take the bread from my hand. I wonder if there is a picture anywhere of Balladin and I think the milkman was Ken