Running into St Malo for an ice cream, I parked up near the Channel Isles ferry port and headed straight for the vendors along the Passage de la Petite Hermine. I used to drum it into the children to always try a different flavour, until Beloved Firstborn pointed out that his mum always ordered a coffee ice cream, so why couldn't he always have chocolate? There's no arguing with a child's logic: it's best to admit defeat and give in.
The benches flanking the little square were all taken, so I cut up past the cathedral and made my way up to the walls. This pirate city has been a part of my life for decades, and even as rain starts to fall its still a beautiful place to come for an ice cream.