POP GOES THE WEASEL

So every afternoon now, an ice cream van, Mr Lucky Clover Leaf Ices, comes hurtling down the road playing his chimes. He doesn't stop. He gets to the roundabout, whizzes around like a high-speed music box and then drives off back up the road again.

What's his game? Any children who happen to hear that magical jingle would be left in a cloud of tire-smoke as he speeds away, and that's if they should they be fast enough to even get out there. Mr Lucky Clover Leaf Ices never stops - they'll never catch him.

The only thing I can think is that perhaps it's the closest edge of the park. So maybe it's a strategic blast of the chimes for all the kids and mums lounging on the grass just behind my house? Perhaps his melodious rendition of Pop Goes the Weasel can't be heard from the park entrance, so he circles the park first giving it a surround-sound rendition of his cantata, then eventually goes and parks up near the entrance, where he hopes a queue of kids will have naturally dragged their parents, notes in hand.

You know, Pop Goes the Weasel used to have two more verses - it's all Cockney Rhyming Slang for things your dad spends money on. I looked up the words:

Half a pound of tuppeny rice,

(food)

Half a pound of treacle.

(treacle tart = sweetheart)

That's the way money goes,

Pop! goes the weasel

(weasel and stoat = coat)

Every night when I go out,

The monkey's on the table,

(£500)

Take a stick and knock it off,

Pop! goes the weasel

(flushed down the cat and dog)

Up and down the City road,

In and out the Eagle,

(a real establishment in a real London Street)

That's the way the money goes,

Pop goes the weasel.

(Dad's in the boozer)

It's a neat little social commentary. Money goes on fripperies at the end of the day.

Mr Lucky Clover Leaf's taking the mick isn't he - playing that tune at the end of my road - what could be more frippery than ice cream?

Still, on days like today, I'm sure he does a roaring trade selling 99s and magnums to the picnic families out there on the buttercup grass. Or perhaps he doesn't? Perhaps in this age of caution and social distance, he's not selling enough Calippos at all? Perhaps he has to roam all the streets, all the cul-de-sacs, all the avenues, gardens and closes, just to remind us he's still here, that ice cream is still a beautiful thing, or is the promise of a beautiful thing, a sweet taste, a sweet aroma, a sweet sound, from the side of the road? Well good luck to you, Mr Luck Clover Leaf Ices with your mobile marketing-mobile. Though maybe slow down a bit, eh?