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For years, an ice cream van passed our house every day between March and October, stopping halfway along the road.
We knew Spring was on the way when we first heard the tinkly music of the van every year.
Countless times SpouseMouse and I wondered if we should go get some ice cream from the man. Each time we decided not to.
This year, we heard no tinkly music. Had our ice cream seller fallen ill?
No. He has changed his route to a more profitable one, a neighbourhood with more children. I saw him pass by the other day when I was returning from the shops. He didn’t turn down our street but kept going to turn at the top of the hill.
No more ice cream van. No more opportunities in that department.
We don’t appreciate what we have until it’s gone. Then, we…
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