It's the Simple Things that Make all the Difference

Let me share with you one of the heart-warming encounters that has brightened our days of late.  Since the Spirit of the Land Festival we have had scoop ice creams as part of our traditional milk bar offerings.  Selling ice cream sounds like a pretty cool way to make a living.  I mean, rows of brightly coloured flavours, sweet, cold and creamy, what could be better.  It's like being the Candy Man really and ice cream never goes out of style, not with big kids and not with little kids.  But it also comes with a degree of stress.

For instance, about this time last year we received our first delivery of ice creams.  The intention was to sell ice cream alongside the drinks fridge we had recently parked in the doorway of the shop.  Just remembering back to our first form of revenue, a mere year ago, reminds me of how far we have come in twelve months.  I remember too, the constant stream of customers, frustrated puzzlement crossing their faces as they realised that they were blocked by a tall fridge and would only get inches into the cafe.  "Do you do hot chips?"  They asked peering around the fridge into the construction site that had once been a cafe.  There was no floor, the walls were only half plastered, tools and paint pots were scattered everywhere.  "No, sorry we are under restoration."  "Oh, okay.  How about a spring roll then?"  Yes, truly that was a genuine question that made us laugh.

But I digress.  I started to say that selling ice creams had its stresses.  That first day, in 30-something heat and high humidity, we took receipt of a freezer full of ice creams and felt optimistically that all our cash flow troubles would be over now that we could trade a bit.  That afternoon was stormy but the break in the sultry weather held off until the evening when lightning lit the sky and unbelievably cut the power.  An ice cream freezer newly stocked was melting fast and we were plunged into despair.  See, the stresses of ice cream.  That episode did have a happy ending by the way.

However, ice cream brings joy to many people and it has truly been a pleasure these past few weeks to be the Mr Whippy of Lockhart.  And here finally, is the heart-warming story.

About two weeks ago an older gentleman came into the shop.  He pointed to his wife sitting in a wheelchair outside and said that she would like to have an ice cream.  "What flavour?" I asked and added.  "Would you like to bring the chair inside so she can choose?"  He shook his head, they were out for their walk and weren't stopping.  He pointed to the Hokey Pokey tub.  "That one will be fine.  Just a single scoop will be enough."  As he left he said: "See you tomorrow."  I watched him take the cone out and hand it to her.  They continued on their way and his wife happily licked her ice cream.  He has been in every few days ever since and it's always the same.  A small cone of vanilla ice cream, not too big, her heart is content with just the simple pleasure of a wee taste of ice cream.  I am afraid that I haven't learned their names yet but my day is always brightened meeting the needs of this lovely couple.  And it seems to me that a life where satisfaction comes as a small scoop of vanilla ice cream in a cone, like when you were a kid, is the best one to have.