Guernsey Cans

I do love a Guernsey Can and was recently delighted to find an addition to my small collection in our local Demelza Hospice charity shop for just a very few pounds.  These wonderful copper milk jugs have a fabulous history, are unique to the Channel Islands and, as with any traditional artifact, hold a historical and cultural value as a reminder of the islands’ rural past and the importance of dairy farming to its economy.

These iconic tin-lined copper milk jugs first arrived on the island of Guernsey over a thousand years ago with the Normans, and for centuries were used daily by families across the group of islands known as the Bailiwick of Guernsey, which consists of Guernsey, Herm, Sark and Alderney, plus the smaller islands of Lihou, Jethou and Brechou. 

The history of the Bailiwick of Guernsey goes back to 933 CE when the islands came under the control of William Longsword, son of Rollo the first Duke of Normandy, having been annexed from the Duchy of Brittany by the Duchy of Normandy.  It is believed that the first milk cans came over from Normandy in France with the original cattle in 980 CE.  These cattle were the founders of the world-famous Guernsey Golden breed, known for their friendly, docile nature and for producing some of the best milk in the world – golden in colour, rich in flavour, and with a high nutritional value.  According to the Norman chronicles, the Duke of Normandy sent monks to Guernsey from Mont St. Michel and they brought the cattle with them[i].  Today, the ‘Froment de Leon’, the most prominent ancestor of the Guernsey Cow, can still be found in Brittany, France.

Guernsey and the Channel Islands were very much the heart of the old Duchy of Normandy until 1066 when William the Bastard – better known to us today as William the Conqueror – defeated the English King Harold at Hastings.  The islands, which are much nearer the coast of France than England, then became dependencies of the British Crown, so they have never actually become a part of the UK.

Guernsey Cans held their significance as a reliable means of delivering milk to the islanders long after other regions had switched to using glass bottles. However, during most of the Second World War, the islands fell under the occupation of German troops. Prior to the occupation, many Guernsey children were evacuated to England to seek shelter with relatives or strangers for the duration of the war.   Then, in the later stages of 1944, the islands faced the terrible threat of starvation as the German forces were cut off and supplies could no longer be brought in from France. Fortunately, Guernsey was liberated on 9 May 1945, marking the end of the occupation.

Following the liberation, the residents of Guernsey faced the daunting task of rebuilding their lives. Evacuees began returning, although many children could hardly remember their homes or relatives after years of separation. Tragically, some were never reunited with their families. The aftermath of war had left its mark on the island – properties had been damaged, wood stripped for fuel, and the islands faced an overwhelming debt. Tourism had been devastated, the farming and dairy industry severely impaired, and rationing continued until the mid-1950s.

Despite the challenges and hardships, the people of Guernsey demonstrated resilience and determination in their efforts to recover and rebuild their lives after the war’s devastation.

In the 1960s, my maternal grandmother had a collection of around twelve cans which had been passed down at the end of the nineteenth century to my Brock grandfather whose forebears had lived on Guernsey for many generations.  The cans, of various sizes, were proudly lined up on the long window sill in her bathroom, but they needed to be cleaned regularly.  I can honestly say that, as a child, it wasn’t my favourite chore as it was hard work on a rainy summer’s day to bring them all downstairs, cover the kitchen table with newspaper and get busy with a tin of ‘Brasso’ metal polish and some old rags.  Despite the monotony of polishing can after can after can, I was always thrilled by the transformation from a dull bronze patina to a wonderful soft gleaming rose colour.  Guernsey Can cleaning was a messy, smelly business as copper has a distinct sweet smell that lingers on one’s fingers if they are not washed properly afterwards.

The standard Guernsey measure was the ‘Pot’, equivalent to about four pints or 2.27 litres.  Traditionally, there were fifteen different sizes of can, from the tiniest 1/2 pint to the enormous 10 Pot (40 pint / 22.73 litres), but the 6 Pot (24 pint / 13.64 litres) was the maximum practical size for use as this could contain the equivalent of about a modern household bucket and a half.  The range of sizes allowed the dairy to collect the rich and creamy milk from each farm in a 6 Pot can, then deliver the milk to each household and decant some of the contents into a smaller can, which would then be used at table. 

The unique globe shape of Guernsey Cans, characterised by a comparatively narrow neck and a broad, rounded base, serves a practical and clever purpose. Not only does this design allow the cans to stand stable and prevent tipping during transportation, but it also maximises their capacity whilst minimising the amount of metal needed for construction. Most cans include a domed lid which helps prevent spillage whilst protecting the milk from contaminants and keeping it fresh.

Through their well-thought-out design, Guernsey Cans exemplify the blending of practicality and craftsmanship, a reflection of the historical importance of milk transportation and storage in the lives of Guernsey’s inhabitants together with consideration to the value of resources in the past.

Today, these gorgeous little pot-bellied jugs have all but disappeared as few makers resumed production after 1945 and, at the time of writing, there is just one man left in Guernsey making these in the traditional way.[iv]  Each Guernsey Can is made entirely by hand and the method of creation has not changed in over a thousand years.  Every piece is cut from a sheet of copper and beaten into shape with a hammer on a special block of wood.  The bottom and top halves of the can are made separately, and each authentic Guernsey Can has a horizontal soldered seam and up to four vertical seams forming the sphere with base, neck, and lid to complete the body.  Well-made handles have supportive webs soldered inside them for added strength, and finally the finished can and lid are lined with tin.  The same method is used for every can, whether large or small, so it takes around five hours to make a two pint can, ten hours to make a three pint can, and even the smallest ones take several hours to produce.

Most cans were produced without a spout and generally carry a soldered three-lion Guernsey arms token on the body of a design dating from the 13th century, and many were marked underneath by their maker or vendor.  Very occasionally, there is a date stamped in the base but, on the whole, there is no reliable way of dating them as the method of manufacture did not change for centuries.

My ‘new’ can, is the fourth antique Guernsey Can in my collection and is doubly unusual as it has a spout but no maker’s name underneath.  When I first brought it home, it was a dull dark chocolate colour and needed a lot of cleaning. I hadn’t thought about taking a photo before I started to clean it, but the image below is very similar in appearance. Intriguingly, the can in the photo also has a spout but no markings underneath, suggesting it could have originated from the same maker.

I don’t know of any quick and, more importantly, safe way to clean the filthy copper surface, so I still use the traditional method of ‘Brasso’ metal polish and ‘elbow grease’, which requires putting in a lot of effort and hard work to generate a lovely bright finish. 

Using an old toothbrush, I cover the outside of the can, including the handle and lid, with a thin layer of metal polish and then rub the surface of the can hard to remove some of the tarnish, repeating the process until the copper surface begins to shine again.  It’s a slow repetitive task as layer after layer of grime is removed, but the work transports my mind back to my grandmother’s kitchen all those years ago and I remember small details from the inside of her home and some of the sounds and smells of my childhood. 

Perhaps one of the reasons I have a deep appreciation for these simple household vessels is the knowledge that, with a little love and hard work, they can be transformed into something intrinsically beautiful once again. The cleaning process becomes a unique experience, adding to my memories associated with Guernsey Cans and, although these particular jugs may not be from my family’s own collection, they still hold sentimental value, serving as tangible reminders of Guernsey’s rich history and the people who once used them. As I take the time to restore their gleaming rose colour, I feel a connection to a heritage that stretches back through generations.

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