The iceman cometh

In 1939, Mum upgraded our lovable old Coolgardie safe to one of the new-fangled ice chests. Life was never the same.

The only gain was meeting ‘The Iceman’. Once and sometimes twice a week he would enter our kitchen with a large block of ice dangling from his fierce-looking iron ‘forceps’ with which he deftly manipulated into the top compartment of our ice chest.

Brother Jack and I admired the muscular ease with which he carried the ice with each arm and sometimes followed him out to his old Ford buckboard with its flat sawdust-covered tray of tarpaulin-covered ice blocks.

If he was in a good mood, he would sometimes use the fearsome-looking icepick tucked in his belt to chip off a sliver of ice for us to suck on.

The water from the melting ice block in the top of the ice chest collected in the drain tray below and provided fresh, cool water for our Scotch terrier Ness.

Did you ever have a weekly visit from the iceman? Do you remember the milkman? Bread deliveries?

If you enjoy our content, don’t keep it to yourself. Share our free eNews with your friends and encourage them to sign up.

Related articles:
Posthumous pride
Wicked waste
The replacement

Written by Peter Leith


Posthumous pride – and how about those accessories!

Peter Leith has already lashed the funeral industry for being wasteful. Now he takes his war

A wickedly wasteful industry

Peter Leith is 90 but strong of body and opinion - especially when it comes to the funeral industry.

The replacement and how the ‘children’ played the dating game

When Peter Leith's dad died, the family wanted to make sure their mum was still motivated to