It’s evening in the 1990s. I’ve just stepped off the train at Guildford, back from yet another long day at the London office. I’m tired, smelly, achy and hungry – just want to get home and relax in front of the telly.
Then it’ll be back to work all over again. At least I’ll have 5 minutes of calm with the perfect start to my morning: cornflakes with cold milk followed by a slice of buttered toast with loads of jam. And of course my regular evening and morning mugs of tea.
Then it hits me — I forgot to buy bread and milk. Again!
With no open shop on the walk home, I’ve got two options for tomorrow:
- go hungry and tea(caffeine)-less
- spend time going to an overpriced café for a sad bap or posh croissant, that isn’t what I really want anyway. (stay tuned for a blog post about that coming soon)
Right there, between the platform and the dark rainy road home, the idea formed. A simple, no-nonsense business that could solve this exact problem for me and millions of others. And made me a packet!
Introducing ‘Bread & Milk’
The concept? A van, parked in the station car park every weekday evening, ready for the 17:53 and 18:17.
Under a fold-out awning, a small, efficient stall selling only the essentials:
- A loaf of bread (white or brown)
- A pint of milk (semi-skimmed or full-fat)
- A combo deal for those who need both
That’s it. No frills. No indecision. Just the basics, sorted before you even leave the station forecourt.
Meeting the customers’ need
This wasn’t just a hunch — the numbers were on my side.
- White bread was still the top choice in the UK, with brown and wholemeal gaining ground.
- Semi-skimmed milk had become the UK’s favourite by the late 90s, but full-fat milk still had a strong following.
(Source – 1Library)
So, I’d offer:
- White or brown loaf: 50p
- Semi-skimmed or full-fat milk (2-pint): 70p
- Combo deal (any bread + any milk): £1.00
No card readers. No queue hold-ups. A quick handover and you’re off. Pricing would be built around simplicity — easy coins, no fiddly change.
Commuters pouring off of trains would need serving very quickly.
I’d have modelled the operation on the Evening Standard sellers of the time — fast, efficient, and familiar.
People wouldn’t browse. They’d walk up, pay, grab, and go.
No five-minute wait while someone picked between oat or soya. Just:
“White loaf.”
“Full-fat.”
“Combo please.”
Three seconds per customer. As many as possible as they pass by.
The setup
A Transit van would do all the heavy lifting — literally. Inside, crates of bread and milk would be neatly stacked to get in as much as possible, I’d serve out the side door, protected from the elements.
Using the van instead of premises would save time and keep overheads modest:
- Stock costs: around 35p for a loaf, 50p for a bottle of milk
- Fuel and maintenance for the van
- Basic public liability insurance
- Pitch fee to the station or local authority — likely under £20/day in the 90s
- Occasional help from a part-timer when the queues built up
There’d be no need for tills, card readers, or barcodes. Just coins, quick change, and a notebook for stock checks. A small generator would provide refrigeration and lights as necessary.
I’d only need a street trading licence, plus potentially an agreement with the railway authorities.
Early bird bonus
There’s more. Keep that van earning its keep!
It should pull up at 6am in a dense suburban housing estate lacking shops. It’d sell bread and milk to people desperately in a rush who just realised they’ve got nothing, trying to placate a complaining family. Same principles: easy setup, essential food, fast service. A few stops short of running a milk round though.
Making piles of dough
At first, it would be just me and one van. But imagine it scaling to Woking. Surbiton. Epsom and beyond.
Multiple vans. Staff in matching fleeces handing out batches of the day’s essentials to thousands of weary commuters.
By the end of the decade, Bread & Milk could have become a staple brand across the country. The commuter’s quiet lifesaver: a guaranteed breakfast.
It’s a simple model to franchise too. I could have just sat back and creamed off the profits.
It was lean (sorry, skimmed). It was fast. And it solved a real, daily problem.
This isn’t half-baked it could have been a real cash-cow!
Would it have risen?
Maybe. Maybe not.
I like to think “Bread & Milk” could have been a big success. A friendly, familiar face handing over the essentials right when you needed them most.
I’ve not dug in to the numbers seriously but the margins would have been tight. The margins on the items vs overheads of running the van would have required a lot of turnover.
The profit on each loaf of bread and carton of milk would be about 30-35p or the combo of both about 60p. Shifting over 100 of each a day could bring in about £80-120 per day. The stock and consumables would be around £100. Remember the size of the vehicle and person to run it are a limiting factors. Include the annual expenses of the van plus personnel and the viability start to crumble.
As a side-hustle or lifestyle business, the evening operation might work as a tightly run, single person gig. But scaling it or making a substantial income would’ve been difficult.
Adding in a morning suburban run would boost revenue but also mean early starts and late finishes. What would also help is
- higher-margin add-ons such as eggs, though that reduces the speed and simplicity and raise the risk of breakages and mess.
- larger-scale operations (multiple vans)
- better wholesale rates.
Was there enough demand among those commuters and home-makers at these prices?
Could enough have been transported to meet the market demand, then given out in such short bursts as trains arrived and buses left?
If yes, I could have been loafing around today toasting to the proceeds. If not, I’d have been ‘brown bread’.
Just for my ego, and for the sake of argument, let’s say the idea did hold water (and milk).
Would it have been long-lasting or soured?
Of course, no 90s dream comes without its cassette-tape tangles.
Over time we saw:
- Loads more convenience stores — with chains like Tesco Express and Sainsbury’s Local popping up in almost every postcode, open until 11 pm (rather proving my point).
- Lots more breakfast products: Soon many consumers were drinking oat milk, buying sourdough, and asking if things were organic or dairy free. Stocking more varieties would have slowed down service and required a bigger van, more staff, and more wastage.
- The simple “combo” model would have been stretched by ever-diversifying tastes too slowing everyone down, so deterring customers.
Still, for a period pre-millennium people commuted like clockwork and just wanted milk for their brew and bread for the family. This could have worked.
The 1980s and 70s could have been even better
- commuting culture was established
- even fewer convenience stores – many areas had nothing open after 6pm
- people’s tastes were simpler – white bread and full-fat milk dominated
- less competition from vending machines or station retail.
However, the fact that no-one did it, to the point we have heard about, is likely very telling.
The end bit
So why didn’t I do it?
Well, I’m not the entrepreneurial type. Though I do like spotting and solving problems like this – hence my career in the charity/public sector and user experience.
And for another thing, with my poor eyesight, I can’t drive!
So, it never got on the road — but the idea has stayed with me. And now, dear reader, it’s parked in your imagination too.
Use your loaf
Would Bread & Milk have worked for you in your town back in the day?
What would have made it even better than I’ve described?
What was your grand business idea that never happened?
Add a comment with your thoughts — I’d love to hear them.