Cold Clock

Doubt is my constant companion. I keep it on my person at all times. Sometimes I find it difficult to hold shopping bags, but it never occurs to me to let it go.

Occasionally, I will be forced to relinquish some doubt. I admit it. If I'm forced into a juggling competition, for example. I stuff it in drawers and onto the shelf under the coffee table.

If my flat caught fire, I could imagine myself running back inside to save the excess doubt, and being consumed by the flames.

You'd think, if I was so hung-up on doubt, that I would doubt doubt itself.

But I don't.

I'm even beginning to doubt whether this is a good opening to a blog post. Imagine that.

They were selling cheap ice cream in the work canteen today. They had the freezer up on the counter and everything. I suppose they want to get rid of it. Either they're retiring the ice cream trade for the winter, or the freezer is cursed and needs to be buried by a priest.

The staff were asking everyone if they wanted ice cream with their lunch.

The trouble with this initiative is that ice cream melts. You can't buy ice cream with your lunch. It would melt by the time you'd finished. Ice cream isn't something you can stockpile as an economical snack option. The immediacy of ice cream is one of its main selling points.

I suppose some people might go back for ice cream after they've finished their lunch. That makes sense. In fact, I might do it.

Or - and I shudder to think of it - people could eat their ice cream first, before consuming the bulk of their (presumably savoury) meal. But that would be appalling.

You know how the saying goes: 

Lunch before Cornetto: the best meal yetto

Cornetto before lunch: I hate you a whole bunch

Ice cream sales have always been the best way to mark the passing of the seasons. Sure, leaves may change from green to reddy-brown. But what if you live miles away from all deciduous trees, like I did back in the 90s?

Ice cream is the barometer. When the price of ice cream is reduced, autumn is upon is. When they start leaving the Soleroes out on the patio furniture, winter is about to rear its frosted head. When the birds begin to build their nests with discarded lolly-sticks, daubed with jokes they can scarcely understand, spring is in the air once more.

And so the circle of life continues. Turn, turn, turn. A time to reap, I time to sew, a time to buy mulled wine, a time to wear vests.

The patterns of life are beautiful when you understand them.