Overdosed on Caramel Chew Chew
Those of you who have been with this blog for a while may remember how much I enjoyed my first Sundae. Bands, an atmosphere akin to an expanded village fete and all the free Ben & Jerry’s ice cream you can handle. More than 365 have rolled round so it was back to Clapham Common for The Hours, unlimited cones of Phish Food and children dancing with pantomime cows. It was just as good second time around.
An absence of rain, a rug to read my Sinclair on and the best smiling company in London made the music and ice cream incidental. I was lost in a sea of smiles, killer sentences and families radiating so much happiness they would shame a Disney movie. Only the odd song broke the civilised air. A cover of Bankrobber and The Holloways roaring: ‘So this is Great Britain and welcome aboard/A sinking ship that’s full of shit and someone nicked the oars/Our once unique identity’s been washed from our shores…’
Overdosed on Caramel Chew Chew, we fixed our feet north before The Proclaimers finished on the inevitable 500 Miles. Home to spicey soup, foacia and saying goodbye to the little Canadian ghost who had been haunting the place. I like spirits who leave ice wine instead of shower ectoplasm.
Baggage ported to the nearest tube and our ghost dismissed with a wave, we flowed back through quiet streets. The biggest noise was from our chuckles over the CIA ‘safe house’ sporting a Mercedes with Langley plates on its drive. Sometimes it is like Darius Jedburgh is back in town. We stopped at the bridge for a while. A tarot full moon on the canal’s dream black water needs an audience.
An absence of rain, a rug to read my Sinclair on and the best smiling company in London made the music and ice cream incidental. I was lost in a sea of smiles, killer sentences and families radiating so much happiness they would shame a Disney movie. Only the odd song broke the civilised air. A cover of Bankrobber and The Holloways roaring: ‘So this is Great Britain and welcome aboard/A sinking ship that’s full of shit and someone nicked the oars/Our once unique identity’s been washed from our shores…’
Overdosed on Caramel Chew Chew, we fixed our feet north before The Proclaimers finished on the inevitable 500 Miles. Home to spicey soup, foacia and saying goodbye to the little Canadian ghost who had been haunting the place. I like spirits who leave ice wine instead of shower ectoplasm.
Baggage ported to the nearest tube and our ghost dismissed with a wave, we flowed back through quiet streets. The biggest noise was from our chuckles over the CIA ‘safe house’ sporting a Mercedes with Langley plates on its drive. Sometimes it is like Darius Jedburgh is back in town. We stopped at the bridge for a while. A tarot full moon on the canal’s dream black water needs an audience.
Labels: Canal, Edge of Darkness, Sundae
posted by David at 11:59 AM
8 Comments:
Mmm, I had a caramel ice cream this weekend. Your post reminded me of it :D
Phish Food is my favorite ice cream.
Lol @ the langley plates. What on earth are they doing in the UK? They may as well paint the sides of the car with big "CIA" letters. Sheesh.
Hello..i am new to your blog...i just wanted to say i am enjoying it very much, it's a good read.
I've never had Ben & Jerry's ice cream...but i intend to remedy that some day soon.
Free ice cream sounds good to me! As a kid I hated it made me feel sick even the smell... but know I love it can't get enough funny that?!
GC – I should be careful what I say about the CIA given my past problems with them, but they do have a certain history of reckless arrogance. As the UK is pretty much a client state, they have rarely felt the need to follow the parts of the manual about low profile when operating out of London. Langley plates are so close to Darius, all I can do is respond with a chuckle.
BRiE – thank you. As for Ben & Jerry’s, you really owe to yourself to try it just once. I would recommend the Phish Food.
Mirk – You are right; it is odd the way tastes mutate. As a child I used to love mushrooms. I adored picking them on out of the mist on a morning and watch my father fry them for breakfast. Now I cannot stand the slimy buggers.
I eat ice cream twice, maybe three times a year. It is always the result of cravings that rise up and have no obvious source, the same for organ meats and raw shellfish. I’ve been having cravings for haggis and kidney in a tin can lately. I’ve never tried either but that is how it starts with me. Regarding your CIA problems, they are mighty busy these days trying to fix everything they’ve broken over the last few decades. I think you might have a grace period to say anything you want about them.
They really were not happy about one entry in Secrets & Lies, I would like to think that I am far too small fry for the CIA to bother with, but the last conversation I had with them did end with the line: “We will seek other forms of redress.” Coming from them that worries me enough to cancel any plans involving flying into JFK. I am not going to stop writing about them though. They provide far too much amusement.
The closest thing we have here to free B&J is that at each B&J shop, you can go and stand in line, one day a year, and get one free cone.
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