Sir: What an old killjoy Samuel Boote (Letters, 21 August) must be. Did he never, upon hearing the distant chimes of 'Mr Whippy', dash for home to be at his mother's side (and near her purse) ready for the moment when the music would herald the arrival of the ice-cream van in his street?
The gaily painted, clapped-out old vans with the huge plastic cornet perched on the roof, the 'ding-dongs' loudly playing (madly out of tune), were the epitome of those long, hot childhood summers. Well, they were on the concrete roads of our council estate in the Sixties. The image is still vivid and one I would wish to share with my children.
Yours faithfully,
STEVE SKLENAR
Beaconsfield,
Buckinghamshire
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