A pokey hat, a 99, wafers, nougats, oysters, all the delights of the ice cream van are available in Govan's streets today.
Mr Whippy is still rolling through the streets, keeping tradition alive, the tinkling chimes announcing his arrival and sending kids into a mad rush for money for the van.
Mr W. has diversified a bit. You have to. It's the same story as the cornershopkeepers; everyone is going to the supermarkets where sweeties are sold in multi packs and packets of fags are cheaper (though one cannot purchase a sing'el in store). This van has added slushies and lots of penny and tuppence trays, packets of tea for our convenience.
He plies his trade across Ibrox and Govan, serving the schools at dinnertime, Bella and Govan High, the stadiums on match days, up and down the streets in the evenings when ladies in slippers slip out to the van for a cone wi tally's blood - probably even in their jammies nowadays.
"Are there any no-go areas for the ice cream van, Mr Whippy?" I enquire, hoping to hear some gritty tales of ice cream wars."Ye wouldnae enter Shaw Street," says he with a laugh. "Ye'd no come back oot."