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Story by Emmjay

Bit of an out-of-body experience yesterday. I was sitting in the front bar of the pub enjoying a quiet lunchtime glass canoe of Trotter’s Ale with my gourmet bacon and egg roll complete with no rocket or kale and my memory banks overflowed with the sound of “Greensleeves”.

Which goes to show that despite impending dementia, some of our childhood memories built on pavlova, sorry, pavlovian training we will take to our graves. And most likely we will find these pink trucks idling around the afterlife, vending whipped ice cream replete with stubby Flake chocolate bars.

And there I was, basking in the firm belief that they do not make childhoods like that anymore ….. only to discover that they DO !