Weaned on, Weaned off
Pa Grouch was an ice-cream man. This is possibly the best job a young kid can have - being dropped off at school in the van was kudos on toast.

But nowadays, it's all I can do to look at the bloody stuff. Two reasons; First, if you've spent every winter for the first 15 years of your life 'finishing off' the previous summers leftover stock, the fascination with the stuff wears off pretty bloody quick - especially when, by February, it's not so much ice-cream as ice with gone-off cream in a vaguely vanilla emulsion.

Secondly - and more importantly - I was once delving into a hold-over crate (think of the bastard offspring of a cool bag and a old-school travelling trunk) to serve up a creamy cone to a willing punter when my hand fastened on to a deep-frozen fieldmouse... I haven't touched a drop of the stuff since.

Still carried on serving til the end of the day, tho.
( Grouch would quite like his clients to stop being numptys, Fri 2 Mar 2007, 13:33, Reply)