[Margaret Pilkington]

Birtwells Ice cream, the colour of butter....they used to come around with the horse and cart
On a Sunday afternoon.....out we would go for the cornets, the sandwiches(made in a silver coloured contraption on a handle) Some people would bring out fancy glass dishes so that the family could dig in.
Oh, it was nectar of the gods.
This ice cream spoilt me for the rest of my life...because no ice cream could come up to that delicious frozen ambrosia (no Taddy...not the rice pudding, but the food of the gods).
I hardly ever eat ice cream now.