When I was a 14 year old teenager in 1974,
there was nothing quite as magical as those day outings to exotic destinations
and for me that mainly consisted of a trip to Brighton.
If it wasn’t a family relative taking me
there, it was my Sunday school teacher at All Souls Church, a
portly, kindly Mr. Arthur Spackman. Mr. Spackman who was a dentist, treated us
with miscellaneous technological gadgets and the weekly concoction of
educational magazines and a Milk Tray chocolate bar. Every summer he would take
the Sunday School class on a magical trip to the popular resort.
Our trip to the city was usually finished
off in Debenhams’s restaurant where we were treated to a Knickerbocker Glory
and for any 14 year old boy this was a treat worth waiting for.
Ice Cream, cream, fruit, meringue. Layers
of different sweet tastes alternated and jammed into the tallest glass topped
with whipped cream, syrup and a cherry.
It even had its own special very long spoon
so to could reach right down into the bottom of the glass and get every last
tiny bit of delight.
Even today the mere mention of one takes me
back to the restaurant overlooking the tiny park in Brighton. There is nothing quite like the pleasure of
diving into this world of glorious sweetness.
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