The ice cream man is in jail!
Yes, it’s true. The 'squeak, squeak' of his Pavlovian horn is no longer heard along Hermitage Road. Why is the ice cream man in jail? I got the story second-hand, so bear that in mind. Here’s what I heard.
There was a police raid last week during which ‘Negril’s numbah one wanted man’ was apprehended. Apparently, this bad bwoy had evaded capture in the famous November gun-sweep raid. The police did their work and tracked the bad guy to a local residence where he was staying with his girlfriend, and that’s where he was taken down. The girlfriend is the daughter of the ice cream man. The residence was the residence of the ice cream man. The ice cream man was in the house when the raid happened. Now the ice cream man is in jail.
I miss the ice cream man, not that I bought his product, but I liked hearing him coming up the hill and seeing him push his bike past the gate. A little bit of colour has been taken from the neighbourhood.
We’ve been here for almost six weeks now. Unfortunately for me, I will be losing my traveling partner on Saturday. Bea is going back to Shrunken Bullocks early. She’s applied for a new job and is going back to pursue that opportunity.
Also, Bea is pretty well ‘Negril-ed Out’. She likes Negril, but not like I do, and she misses the comforts of home, notwithstanding the horrible weather there. So I’ll soon be on my own – at least until my crew starts showing up, which will be February 1st.
Tonight it's dinner at Moon Dance cliffs
One of the three feral cats in our yard - Bea feeds them.
Ahhhh . . . pop quiz, where are these urinals? (I posted this because I hardly ever get to use the word 'urinals'.
