Fortnightly Funness
I love the Home Ice-Cream man! He makes every second Monday night so much fun... With his orange flashing light, and his ring-a-dingling bells. The way he emerges from the depths of the dark night bringing his delicious dairy desserts. OK obviously, daylight saving will dim this particular aspect of the funness, but still... It's something to look forward to every two weeks.
I'd seen the trucks doing their rounds in Sydney, and so when a Home Ice Cream brochure appeared in our mailbox, the excitement was almost tangible...
me: Mrb, Mrb, a Home Ice Cream brochure. Oh! How wonderful! Do you know what this means...?
him: It means they're going to start delivering around here...?
me: (Completely ignoring him, so caught up the moment as I was) It means they're going to start delivering round here... How excitement!
This conversation must have been repeated in numerous households across Bulli, because when The Man appeared in our street that first Monday evening, he was overwhelmed! At least half of my neighbours were standing on the curb, clutching their brochures, the kids were going mental... It was insane!
And still, the joy keeps coming... My neighbour is so addicted to her fortnightly fix, she SMSs her dealer, to ensure she's around when he's coming through...
And the mini chocolate hearts (20 for $6.50) are so so good!
Ah, Home Ice Cream Man - my dreams are made of thee...
posted by actonb at 9:17 pm
14 Comments:
The mr whippy in the area where i grew up used to sell a 25 bag of weed in the bottom of his 'double choc cones..wink'.
ooh I remember mango and cream Home Ice-creams when we were a kid. Dad used to buy a couple of boxes and my brother and I would go burko trying to consume more than the other. They were the best treat.
Our ice cream man is a mercenary. He started coming again a month ago (ice cream on the beach in winter? WTF?) and arrives around 1.30pm each Saturday, stopping for way too long, just to make sure every kid in the street has heard him and had not only a chance to badger their mother for an ice cream, but enough time to pull off a tantrum when they get told "NO" and then go into hyper-wail when they storm to their room, only to still hear Green-bloody-sleeves tinkling away out the front...
Monica - back when we had ice cream vans we used to sit on the road. Lying down always seemed dangerous.
The problem was that we lived near this reserve (now mcmansions) that seperated our suburb from the next one over. And we'd hear the bells from over the other other side, but it was on a seperate run ... so we would sit outsdie waiting for hours ... unti it got dark.
Sad. Sad days.
We used to sit there until it got dark. With our money.
Twas heartbreaking.
Nothing like being a day late for the show though. That brings a tear to my eye just reading about it.
I'm reminded of the day we went out to the Waterworks (big waterslide theme park in - um - Mount Druitt, I think) ... only for my dad to take one look at the entry prices and turn the car around.
I hate to interrupt the 'my childhood was worse than yours' love-in that we're having here....
We were NEVER allowed ice-creams from the ice-cream van. Ever.
I win hands-down.
That only wins, B, if you had no ice cream in the house you could eat instead.
Pah! As if!
ice-cream van icre-cream is so much specialler than ice-cream in the freezer.
which brings to mind the Eddie Murphy sketch about Momma burgers...
I used to love the bindi sprint...shoeless across the lawn to get to the icecream van before he disappeared. I think we had a sadistic fast driving van man cause he was always gone by the time we got there. All you could see was the rear of the van as it was going up the hill by the time you had hopped across the lawn, pulling bindi's out as you go.
we only rarely got the ice cream van round our way when we were younger. but it was still the most exciting thing ever. better than waiting for the milk man so you could perv on the milk delivery boys...
My brother is in his early twenties. He still gets excited when a Mr Whippy van goes up the street, and I have watched all six foot five of him chase one down the street demanding they stop to sell him a double choc dip cone. And with my mother's money too.
I seriously think it's something burned onto your brain - like Pavlov's dogs, the sound of Greensleeves brokenly jingling along the road, gives you an instant adrenaline shot, and creates an instant craving for pig fat...
mmmmmmmmmmmm pig fat and seaweed...
Post a Comment
<< Home