I Scream for Ice Cream.

But it’s not really about the ice cream,

It’s what the ice cream represents.

Fun days on the beach,

Sticky hands by the sea,

The sunshine and how long were those days?

Crabs,

Rocks,

And sand.

But it melts so quickly here,

In Cornwall.

We wonder is it the cream?

If you’re not fast it’s dripping down her arm.

Then there is horror,

As the baby wipes are buried,

At the bottom of the pram,

And then, it’s about MORE than ice cream,

It’s about preventing THE SCREAM.

In the rush to secure the wipes,

You bump your head and the whole moment seems…

Hilarious!

But it’s not really the ice cream it’s the comedy of the dive.

It’s the predictability of it all.

The not yet learned the technique.

And by week two,

It’s all about the ice lollies,

Thank God for them!