Ice Cream

Okay, it’s one of the coldest days of the year, frost still un-melted from yesterday, the sky freezing blue and white, but we still went for a family day out to the Cheshire Ice Cream Farm. We were not the only ones either - the place was full. My sister and I managed to eat two each. I indulged in generous scoops of Choc fudge cookie dough and then millionaire’s shortbread; Margaret enjoyed ferrero roche and another millionaire’s shortbread. We did feel slightly ill afterwards, so it was just as well that by sheer coincidence, the BBC’s ‘Street Doctor’ was filming and eating ice cream at the time. Both of us were too embarrassed though to confess any illnesses or afflictions, but my mum, after being encouraged by us, went over and asked why her fingers turn corpse-like in the cold. Reynaud’s Syndrome apparently. The Street Doctor himself was very fine looking indeed, perhaps I should have been overcome with a fainting fit in front of him.

Once again, I was caught out with just how cold it was. I really did lose all feeling in my feet, standing around on concrete blocks looking and cooing at new-born calves (the farm has real cows to make the ice cream) but it was so worth it for the taste of that ice cream. It’s been a while since I’ve had any, apart from last Monday in Mousehole as I recall now… but before that it must have been a good two months. Roskilly’s is very, very good stuff, but I feel Cheshire Farm just has the edge. Something I might have to consider in my future living plans.

I just can’t seem to stop eating sweet things. I have pledged to give up crisps, chocolate, sweets, cakes and biscuits for Lent, but have weakened and cheated a little several times: half a chocolate and banana pasty last weekend, a small piece of cherry pie yesterday, and three liquorice allsorts also last weekend. I blame my Auntie for that. And now, I have a very large bag of jelly belly beans in my possession. Care of my sister after her trip to New York. They are possibly one of the best varieties of confectionery in the world, and one of my favourite ever kinds of sweet. But if I am to keep up my Lent thing, which I usually manage to do, then they’re going to have to stay in their bag for the next few weeks. Torture. Still, I haven’t forbidden myself ice cream, plenty of room for that.