Rob, Rambling - A lot of things interest me...

Lauren’s series of posts about the “ice cream of the future” have reminded me about my first (and so far, only) experience of ice cream in dot form.

It was during my first trip to America, when I was about eight years old. We’d stayed with some friends in West Virginia, and then driven down to Florida to do all of the DisneyWorld parks and so on. During our time in Florida, there happened to be a shuttle launch from Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral.

We drove out that way, and ended up pulling over to the side of the road to watch the launch, along with everyone else in the area. The shuttle was pretty much just an orange glow at that distance, but it was cool to see it heading up into the heavens, disappearing into the sky as we watched.

Of course, being so close to the space center, we had to go in. Again, along with everyone else in the area. I remember it being stupidly busy, but also absolutely amazing. Hell, I was a space-geek then, and still am now.

The point of this story though, is that that day brought me my first experience of Space Dots, or real astronaut ice-cream, as it was marketed there. I distinctly remember my little sister (around four at the time) thoroughly spilling her ice cream everywhere, and all these tiny ice cream balls rolling around before swiftly melting on the hot concrete. That meant me having to give up some of my ice cream to her, which at that age is just unfair.

Anyways, if you haven’t yet tried space dots, or astronaut ice-cream, I can highly recommend it. I can also highly recommend the Kennedy Space Center, and the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C.

(photo via TechRepublic)

I’m going to assume that agirlcalledhenrietta took this photo of the inside of the Barbican complex, because it’s a fucking awesome shot. It reminds me of when I had my graduation ceremony there a few years back.

I spent 4 years at King’s College London to do my law degree, minus a year in Germany when I was 21, and it culminated in a ceremony at the Barbican with gowns and certificates.

My parents didn’t trust me to make it to the ceremony on time from my then abode, so booked me a hotel room neighbouring their own, for two nights.

I have to admit that my final year at uni was a slog; my friends had all graduated, and I couldn’t be bothered to make new friends. I just wanted the whole university/poor period of my life to be over and done with, and to get out into the real world.

For my parents, however, it was all about the ceremony, because I’m the eldest grandchild in the family. I still feel like a bit of an outcast because I couldn’t introduce them to X hundred friends.

For them, it was one of those moments of recognisation of the money that they’d put into my education, although maybe not quite the recognisation of how it had made me the man I am today.

It’s still one of those moments that will forever be engraved on my memory.

I just wish that I might’ve felt differently at the time, and maybe REALISED just how important it was to my parents, even if it meant fuck all to me.

I love snow-covered cars. Reminds me of snowball fights and how cars were the perfect place to make snowballs from. They provided cover, and at the same time easy-to-reach snow at a good height.

Those were the days.