Another lovely day, and the first ice-cream van of the year has just plinkety-plonked its way up our road and parked in the turning circle beside the Tinhouse.
I’ve written before about how awful it must be to have to work everyday listening to a hurdy-gurdy version of the same song over and over again, but I’ve just thought of a way in which it could be worse.
When he’d sold his wares the driver had to back out of the circle, and I discovered that a reversing ice-cream van does NOT play its tune backwards.
I found this disappointing, but on reflection it’s probably just as well.
Because if it did, I’d say the step from being an ice-cream man to being a rooftop sniper might be a fairly short one.
