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Mr. Whippy Saves The Day

Posted on Wednesday 25th July 2007 at 00:00
Rain is on the way.

I know this for a fact, not because I've looked at the weather forecast or had someone tell be, but because I sense it.

No, I don't have one of those dodgy knees that ache when the weather is taking a turn for the worse. Cool as that would be, I doubt such a thing is particularly tolerable in a country as wet as our, and at any rate, they aren't very reliable. All a dodgy knee indicates is a fall in pressure, and as those who've been flooded out of their homes this week will tell you, the pressure's been pretty low all summer.

My sense is far more accurate. Better than any weather forecast, it is guaranteed to tell you that it's going to rain. My sense is my ears, which even as I type this, are being subjected to the deafening screeches and clangs of approaching doom, and with it, the worst weather Britain has to offer.

That's right; I hear the soul destroying, ear drum shattering, cat strangling cry of an ice cream van jingle.

As those of you who live in the suburbs will know, it's a fact of life that when the weather is cold and/or wet, you cannot walk a hundred yards down the street without seeing the frightfully over optimistic ice cream man, sat in the back of his van, waiting patiently for customers. It is also a fact of life that when the weather is boiling hot, the flowers are wilting and you want nothing more than a nice cold ice cream to refresh you, there isn't a van to be seen for at least 200 miles.

What most people, with their busy lives and full time jobs, may not realise is just how accurate this phenomenon actually is. Having spent most of my time at home over the last few days, I can confidently report back to my readers that the ice cream men of north Fishponds are nothing less than a dedicated and hard working team of meteorologists, working round the clock to keep local residents informed of the fickle and sometimes volatile weather in this area.

Even with the current conditions, where it rains roughly every other hour from dawn til dusk, Mr. Whippy and Co. never miss a shower. I should therefore like to thank these individuals, without whom I should never manage to get my washing in on time, or remember my brolly when popping out to the shops.

Thank you.

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