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Others B bryan-choo June 15, 2013 1381
A crucial part of our lives we must continue to cherish.
(Updated: June 27, 2013)
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All it takes is that ring-a-ding-a-ling-ling, that evocative tintinnabulation which summons forth some of our earliest memories, now buried in the deepest recesses of our hearts, that most welcome of sounds in the searing midday heat that never fails to draw a crowd, whether in void-decks of the heartlands, or on the huge, lonely bridge in the vacant Clarke Quay after lunch hours.

I'm way past that stage now, of going up to that lone 'uncle' and asking for a thick block of my favourite mint ice cream, my yummy candied toothpaste, sandwiched between plain wafer biscuits or wrapped in a slice of some swirly, many-hued loaf that seemed like it was plucked from the skies of some fantastic dream-world of my childhood past. When I crave for ice cream these days, I get myself a cup of Haato.

But sometimes, it's not the taste that matters when it comes to food, but the precious memories and emotions deeply associated with it, dearly cherished aspects of our life that can have no commensurability with currency. My mother's cooking can never rival that of the restaurants and fancy cafés I frequent when I'm out. She is no chef; she can't make Japanese omurice or bake French macaroons or whip up a perfect pasta dish. But I know I will be utterly and irrevocably devastated if I can never taste any of her dishes again. And I guess the same reasoning would apply to the ice cream 'uncle' who at one point in our lives held such joy for us. Even as I now pen my thoughts, I'm craving for a block of that minty green goodness. And I think I shall get myself one the next time I hear that bell.
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