Ice cream man.

Standing in a freezing rainy old airfield in East Linton at one of the most scary markets I've ever been to. Hardly anyone had teeth. Hardly anyone had heads.

This lovely old geezer hadn't sold an ice cream all day.
My throat is still sore, and I'm a sucker for the cheap squeezy stuff.

And he was from round where I used to live in Hackney. Sweet.