We must have tired ourselves out yesterday, because none of us rose particularly early this morning.
Actually we did manage to clear away our breakfast things before midday, but only just, and it would appear that four days later we are still catching up on news of the last two years.
Since we had a bit of time to kill between breakfast and bedtime, and since it’s been almost a week since we had a meal which comprised only ice cream and since the sun was shining and it seemed like the perfect afternoon for a walk along the beach, Jørn and Birgit suggested that it might be time we did both.
Half a century ago, a small ice cream shop opened in Surfer’s Paradise, not far from our office. It claimed to offer Danish Ice Cream, which looked an awful lot like any other kind of ice cream to the casual observer, but was served with a bit of panache, a dollop of whipped cream and a splodge of jam all seated in a freshly made waffle cone. This made them more delicious than anything we’d ever imagined, and the red and white checked napkins wrapped around them made them ever so exotic. That they cost what seemed like a year’s pay made them impossibly desirable.
Today, Hansens Flødeis with vaffel but no gammeldags lived up entirely to those lofty expectations set by the Antipodean imposter all those years ago, and even counting the cost of the airfare to get here, with substantially less impact on our net worth.
The walk along the beach was nice too.
1 comment
So it was good ice cream, then. 😄
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