A heatwave: winter’s distant icy grip melts away. I dust down the truck, start it up, each year praying that the engine fails.
It never does.
Check the chimes, a tinny rendition of Oranges and Lemons. Always brings the kids running.
Not sure how many summers I’ve seen, how long I’ve been doing this. Forever, probably. It’s amazing what you can get away with when you’ve a smile upon your face and something sweet in your hand.
Opening the freezer in the back, I’m greeted by last season's remains.
I scream.