London Sketches – Ice-cream Scoop

Strolling in the summer sunshine, the River Thames lay a-glistening with a peerless blue sky overhead and the green canopy that is Battersea Park beyond. Ah! London in the summertime, and what better opportunity to procure an ice-cream confection from that greatest of Anglo traditions – the ice-cream van? Originated by the Americans with the advent of portable freezer technology, Britain began to see them appear on our streets from the early 1960’s onwards. Who can forget the thrilling trill of ‘Greensleeves’, the panic-driven search for ready coinage and the all-out sprint to get to the van before it had moved on?
This particular van is painted in vanilla and strawberry tones, depicting oversize images of creamy ice-cream smothered in lashings of sauce with chocolate flakes as thick as Christmas logs. What harm could a single-serve do, in this reminisce of a childhood delight?
Alas! An argument impinged upon my joy:
A: You always do this!
B: Do what?
A: Complain about everything , your ice-cream for one. I mean most people would JUST BE HAPPY to have an ice-cream.
B: I don’t complain, I just point out the facts – like the fact the flake isn’t proper chocolate, the cream isn’t even ice-cream and…
A: See!
B: But IT’S a FACT – like it’s a fact you always pick a fight.
A: I do not.
B: You do – doesn’t matter where we are or who we’re with you always find something to fight about, such as right now!
A: What? That’s rich coming from you, Mr Negative.
B: Mr Negative? I am not, I am just a realist.
A: Delusional more like. Delulu! DE-LU-LU!
B: Delulu – now you’re making up words, the fact is, you just can’t handle reality.
A: Oh really? How’s this for reality?
An ice-cream thrust face-wards!
(Thence, a hasty retreat.)
I suppose that’s what you might call skating on wafer-thin ice? A frosty reception? Mr Whipping up a storm? A soft serve? (Please stop me now…)