Dreaming of icecream.

When I was a kid growing up in 60s Sydney we got 20 cents a week pocket money.

Doesn’t sound like much but back then you could get a bag of mixed lollies from the corner store for a few cents.

We were able to supplement our pocket money by collecting discarded drink bottles and cashing them in for the deposit (it went on fireworks when cracker night was coming up).

Anyway, with all that loot burning a hole in our shorts pockets the sound of the icecream man coming up the street was music to our young ears.

Our bloke drove a grey EH Holden station wagon that played Green Sleeves of course.

I’m pretty sure it was an EH, although we did own a grey one later that mum made flowery curtains for – so I could be confused.

The wagon had an ice chest that lay flat in the back, with doors that opened upwards – at least I think it was an ice chest because it didn’t run off the cigarette lighter.

The icecream man sold ice blocks and Paddle Pops, Splices and Hawaiian Delights – but my icecream of choice was a Streets Capuccino or its close cousin the Vienna Chocolate – both of which came in paper cups with a little wooden paddle to scoop them out.

Looking back it was probably the Capuccino that gave me my taste for coffee, because my day doesn’t really get going until I’ve had a couple of caffeine hits – I’m a confirmed addict.

Are you hearing me Streets?