Telling Tales

Julie Cameron 35 -40 4377/78

Everyone’s experience if not the same must have been similar. Coming back from the beach, Centenary Tower appears on the horizon. You’re close, it’s time to start the campaign. “Mum can we stop? Please? Dad please, PLEASE!?”. Silence. They look at each other, but there’s no sound until the indicator clicks on. YES! We’re stopping! You wait eagerly for the car to come toa complete halt, taking off your seatbelt too early will get you into trouble and you don’t want to chance missing out. The hand brake pulls on and you scramble out, clutching the damp towel you’ve been sitting on around your waist trying not to burn your hand on the seatbelt release. Your T-shirt is wet at the back from your dripping hair and your flip flops are full of saltwater and sand. Dad grabs your hand before you can race across the road without checking. Walking across the road at a speed which tests your patience you then dart through all of the parked cars and petrol bowsers you’ve never actually seen used. You want your turn while straining to see into the freezer, agonising over your choice, briefly wondering why a single gone has two scoops and a double has three, but no game to ask in case it means the doble isn’t the option. As a kid nothing else requires the thought that goes into picking your flavours at Badenochs. You commit. The shop keeper hands you your ice cream and it’s the best treat in the whole world. Even as an adult it’s still the same. That’s the magic of a Badenochs ice cream.