What a brilliant article, about something from a time that does seem long long ago…..
The Glory of a Knickerbocker Glory
During the deliriously happy days of childhood here in the land of Jelly, Blancmange and Enid Blyton, the tinkling of distant ice cream vans and childish contrivance of threepence for a lolly, rather than sweeties, was kicked into oblivion by the mere prospect of syrupy tinned fruit cocktail, vanilla ice cream, strawberry or chocolate sauce, whipped cream and sprinkles. Dad and I always gave our wafers to my Mother as she loved them so much, but in truth, they just slowed you down from getting into the good gear.
Childhood whimsies, the boot of your Gresham flyer (a tricycle with a boot) filled with treasures (mine included a salvaged, one-eyed Spanish doll). Idles of childhood and the mere prospect of a (nearly as tall as you) glass filled with unctuous goodies. Burl Ives Big Rock Candy Mountains buzzy bees crooning in the back ground.
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