Sunday, Sundae, Son Day.

Ah. BIG treat today. We had visitors. Grandpa and Nanny Myddle came to visit for Son Day ‘Sunday’. This is a made up day, like a birthday and is basically an excuse for Daddy’s Mummy and Daddy to embarrass him and spoil him with some little treat because, as Nanny Myddle always says, “You never forget Mother’s Day, you never forget Father’s Day so we have invented ‘Son Day’. They are a bit soppy that way but on reflection, I’ve been thinking it is a tradition that should continue. Apart from anything else, I am a son and it will annoy Tippi… unless they invent Daughter Day but that sounds rubbish and has no dubious pun attached to it. It is always on the closest Sunday to the 29th August because, as Grandpa Myddle says. “We picked it out of a hat.” So. This ‘Son Day Sunday’, Daddy chose a treat very close to Mummy and Daddy’s hearts. They decided we should all go to a place they used to go quite early in their relationship when the talk was probably more about each other’s eyes and less about who didn’t take out the recycling. And the place? I am talking about the ice cream capital of the western world, the blue-chip, first-class, premier, luxury, Ritz and Savoy rolled into one of the Ice Cream Parlour… Marine Ices in North London. Yum! This place is to ice cream what The Fat Duck is to Wild Salmon Custard with chorizo sprinkles. If you covered heaven with chopped nuts, soaked it in raspberry coulis, smothered it in whipped cream and served it with a cordon-bleu wafer… that would be Marine Ices. Are you getting that I like this place? Hope so. They have a very nice restaurant but we were really there for the ice cream and after some consultation with my WWF Grizzly Bear Bruno, who I had taken along for a treat, I had a fantastic ice cream sundae called a Knickerbockers Glory, which sounds very funny ‘cos knickerbockers are like ancient pants, but is actually like happiness in a glass. It’s got vanilla ice cream, strawberry sorbet, pineapple, banana, peaches and a lovely sauce. I have decided that when I grow up, I am going to live in an ice cream parlour… or at least live upstairs and eat ice cream for every meal. Yum. After we had all eaten so much ice cream we felt sick, we went down to Camden Market because, as Mummy said, “You can’t ever get enough cheap tat sold by a man in a tie-died kaftan.” Camden market was amazing. I didn’t know that many scented candles existed in the world and one stall must have had a year’s supply of silver rings with skulls on them. Grandpa Myddle bought a tee-shirt with “I’m with Stupid” written on it, which Nanny Myddle didn’t like much until he said it was for her. Then some man with lots of metal in his face and a black Killing Joke tee-shirt on the bridge over the canal in Camden came up to Daddy and tried to sell him a skunk, which is odd, ‘cos where would you get a skunk in Camden? Maybe he worked at Regent’s Park Zoo…he did smell a bit funny. Anyway, Daddy said no he didn’t want a skunk thank-you and the man sloped off a bit disappointed. I don’t think he has sold many of his skunks ‘cos he couldn’t afford a proper lead for his dog and had him on a piece of string. Nanny Myddle asked Daddy quite loudly why the man was selling a skunk and Daddy gave her a very odd look and Grandpa nudged her a bit. Tall People are very funny.