Some of you would have read that I write books. Currently, I am writing a recollection of my growing up years in Borneo.
I remember when the American ice cream came to town. Not sure if it was my friend's uncle's. I don't remember the exact location was becos: my sis Elizabeth was in Chinese school, my bro Charles was in English school. My Dad drove just me home from school. Elizabeth and Charles took the bus. They were going on and on about the American ice cream that was new to town. It's that soft serve.
That day, Dad said he couldn't pick me up, I was to wait for the 2, and catch the bus. Charles and Eliza took me to buy this American ice cream via a little hole in the wire fence by Lido theater. We were merrily slurp the ice cream, crawl through the hole. Lo and behold, who did we see? My Dad and the principal Mr Wong Kee Mee. Charles and Eliza threw away their ice cream. I sat in the front seat, happily slurping away. Dad scolding the whole way home. "Not that I don't want you to eat the American ice cream. It is you made us worried that you were kidnapped." (Dad finished his appointment and decided to pick us up.)
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