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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Family & Friends
- Subject: Memory / Reminiscence
- Published: 05/09/2018
A chidhood memory.
The first cuckoo.
"Can you hear the first cuckoo kiddo?" I vividly remember my Mum asking me, as she scooped me up with one hand, snatched her (shrapnel filled) purse with the other and dashed us towards the door.
By the age of eight, that-hypnotic-sound sent me into autopilot. I'd been playing out. Wooshing wonderfully up and down the concrete alley. The sound of spring came whistling into my village on the wind. Squawking through the sky towards me. Excitement erupted inside me like a shaken up can of fizzy pop.
My robust red and yellow roller boots rocketed me forwards. My heart was beating as hard as the plastic wheels, that were powerfully thudding down on the pavement below me. Will I make it in time? Please God!
The anticipation was excruciatingly exhilarating. The coo was encroaching. Yes! I could hear the tune, teasingly tumbling over the tannoy. The words to a lyric less melody reverberated around my brain on a loop: just one Cornetto........
Throwing all caution to the wind, I flung open my back door without removing my roller boots.
"Mum!" I squealed.
To say that my Mum had a hard life would be boastful. Through the winter, she worked indefatigably hard scrubbing other peoples' homes and taking in endless ironing just to keep us in coal, clothes and carbohydrates. We did not have central heating.
I found her in the living room, scrapping around for a fifty pence piece to feed the Ferguson television set: our greedy guest from Radio rentals.
"The cuckoo's coming!" I announced.
We both knew the drill. There was no time to lose. I held out my top as though I was trying to catch a falling chick out of a tree. Whilst my Mum clanked the coppers out of her large glass bottle as vigorously as she could into my makeshift container.
I made it to the corner. Phew! The gentle Italian ice-cream man remained even-tempered as I scattered my coins all over his counter, and the floor. He didn't tut as he patiently picked up the two pence pieces that were having a quick game of hide and seek amongst his merchandise.
Ten minutes later ( even though I was twenty pence short), I was skating back with my beacon like '99': dripping in three different sauces, sprinkles, crushed nuts, a flake and a pink bubble gum. I felt regal.
For my Mum, spring signified our homes' insatiable appetite for fuel, sated-for now, giving her a financial break. Springtime felt like Mother nature was sending us vicissitudes for a while.
The First Cuckoo(Rosalie Tipler)
A chidhood memory.
The first cuckoo.
"Can you hear the first cuckoo kiddo?" I vividly remember my Mum asking me, as she scooped me up with one hand, snatched her (shrapnel filled) purse with the other and dashed us towards the door.
By the age of eight, that-hypnotic-sound sent me into autopilot. I'd been playing out. Wooshing wonderfully up and down the concrete alley. The sound of spring came whistling into my village on the wind. Squawking through the sky towards me. Excitement erupted inside me like a shaken up can of fizzy pop.
My robust red and yellow roller boots rocketed me forwards. My heart was beating as hard as the plastic wheels, that were powerfully thudding down on the pavement below me. Will I make it in time? Please God!
The anticipation was excruciatingly exhilarating. The coo was encroaching. Yes! I could hear the tune, teasingly tumbling over the tannoy. The words to a lyric less melody reverberated around my brain on a loop: just one Cornetto........
Throwing all caution to the wind, I flung open my back door without removing my roller boots.
"Mum!" I squealed.
To say that my Mum had a hard life would be boastful. Through the winter, she worked indefatigably hard scrubbing other peoples' homes and taking in endless ironing just to keep us in coal, clothes and carbohydrates. We did not have central heating.
I found her in the living room, scrapping around for a fifty pence piece to feed the Ferguson television set: our greedy guest from Radio rentals.
"The cuckoo's coming!" I announced.
We both knew the drill. There was no time to lose. I held out my top as though I was trying to catch a falling chick out of a tree. Whilst my Mum clanked the coppers out of her large glass bottle as vigorously as she could into my makeshift container.
I made it to the corner. Phew! The gentle Italian ice-cream man remained even-tempered as I scattered my coins all over his counter, and the floor. He didn't tut as he patiently picked up the two pence pieces that were having a quick game of hide and seek amongst his merchandise.
Ten minutes later ( even though I was twenty pence short), I was skating back with my beacon like '99': dripping in three different sauces, sprinkles, crushed nuts, a flake and a pink bubble gum. I felt regal.
For my Mum, spring signified our homes' insatiable appetite for fuel, sated-for now, giving her a financial break. Springtime felt like Mother nature was sending us vicissitudes for a while.
Gerald R Gioglio
01/18/2021yep, brings back memories of the "Tastee Freeze" ice cream man who drove around the neighborhood, sending kids scurrying and adults digging for coins.
Thanks,
JG
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Kevin Hughes
06/06/2018Rosalie,
In my city ( Cleveland in the USA) it was the "ting, ting, ting" of the bell on ice cream tricycle, or the "Organ Monkey Song" on the Ice Cream truck. I grew up in the poorer part of town with my ten other siblings- and just like your story, we could get "close enough" to the actual price to satisfy either of the IceCream Men. When my Mother had back surgery- every week for the entire summer, he sent us home with a "nutty bar" (Vanilla Waffle Cone dipped in chocolate, covered with nuts ) for her. He said: "Nothing helps a girl heal like chocolate." It must have worked!
Your story will be generating memories like that all over the world as folks on StoryStar read it. Smiles, Kevin
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Rosalie Tipler
06/06/2018That has made me smile so much, thanks for sharing your beautiful, heart warming memory Kevin!
Help Us Understand What's Happening
JD
06/05/2018Nice memory of childhood and the excitement of the Italian ice cream truck bringing its gifts on a hot day. Beautifully described and written. Thank you for sharing your story on Storystar, Rosalie. Congratulations on being selected as one of the Story STARS of the Week! :-)
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Rosalie Tipler
06/06/2018Thank you very much!
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