To Ben or Jerry

Photo by Ilya Ilyukhin

Today, on the most unpoetically bleak day in Brisbane, God gave me two miracles. And they were called Ben and Jerry. So here is my love letter.

To Ben or Jerry,

I once had the misfortune of seeing someone who was addicted to you. It was bad and I was utterly disgusted. How could someone like something so bloody much? Surely, it was just a phase.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Turns out, in a cruel twist of fate, I might be addicted to you too.

Today, I awoke to something every girl dreams of waking up to;

An event notification for a free icecream giveaway, at a surprise location, somewhere near the city.

So naturally, I dropped everything I was doing (which was nothing, as I’d literally just woken up), and jumped in the shower, mentally preparing myself for the excitement the day would surely bring.

I left the house makeup-less and hair still dripping, pausing only to place a freezer block and freezer bag inside my handbag to keep the ice cream cool in as I journeyed home. If this is not desperation, I don’t know what is.

My friends were unable to accompany me on this particular adventure because they were too busy either a) actually having a life, or b) being vegan. The lone wolf element of the day made my desperate struggle even more beautiful.


11:00am – I’m running to the bus. I am so fit. I could run a marathon.

11:01am – I take that back immediately I think I have a stitch.

11:05am – I’m on the bus – stage 1 success.

11:15am – Change of bus. Where is Ann street. Why didn’t I bring a map?


11:40am – Buses are fun, this is like a roadtrip, except its just me and no one is having fun and there is no kickass soundtrack.

11:45am – Arrive at rival University (this is practically committing treason, the lengths I go to for ice-cream are quite ridiculous).

11:50am – Facebook has told me the ice-cream truck has moved. It is on the other side of the city.

11:55am – And we’re back on the bus, co-incidentally with the same bus driver who is probably judging me for not really knowing where I’m going as I joyride around the entire city.


12:25pm – Location two, truck has been spotted. Running has commenced. Again having immediate thoughts to join a gym ASAP.

12:35pm – In line for ice-cream, sweating like a pig. Ice-cream Man closes truck doors. Travesty. Truck is moving to a third mystery location.

12:45pm – No word yet of third location. Sitting on side of road, contemplating life. Is the ice-cream even worth it anymore. Don’t be stupid of course it’s worth it. This is just like when marathon runners hit a wall, or real writers get writers block. I just have to push through. This is my Everest.


1:15pm – It is now pouring with rain. Chariots of fire is playing. I am somehow still running. I can see so many people with ice-cream. This is it. This is the end.


1:30pm – I’m there. I’ve done it. All of a sudden, nothing else matters. I have won. I am now receiving two free pints of ben and jerry from the nice Ice-cream lady. Her lips are moving but I can’t hear anything over the sound of myself singing Destiny’s Child’s Survivor in my head. Oh lord I hope this is in my head and I’m not singing out loud. I really am, I am a survivor. I have survived and God has rewarded me in the form of Ice-cream. This is the greatest love of all.

It tasted like perfection. I walked home in the pouring rain thinking that after three and a half hours, the human spirit had triumphed and life was complete again.

Ben and/or Jerry, my love for you is surely uncontrollable. If today has proved anything at all I think that it’s no matter how bad my life gets, I will never appear as desperate or as hopeless as I did today chasing your icecream truck all over the city.

When I try and describe my feelings for you, I am lost for words. And so I will borrow some from 90’s legend Julia Stiles:

I hate that I couldn’t find you anywhere,

And the fact that you often make me poor,

But most of all, I hate that I don’t hate you,

Not even close

Not even a little bit,

Not even at all.


Yours sincerely,


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