The Leningrad Eskimo.

That summer I honestly bombed two shifts in the children’s camp near Chernigov and talked in my native town in the north in anticipation of September 1st.
There was nothing bad in the camp, but it was not fun. Nearly two kilometers to the river... all according to schedule. The leaders generally from Uzbekistan, Russian know poorly. Children were formed into units according to the principle: half of the northerners - half of the locals. And what is surprising, they were not all rooted in the principle of "Kohly-Russian". The hooligans were friends with the hooligans, the quiet with the quiet. In the senior units, the locals looked at pale northern women, our guys carried black-eyed wilds.
My mother ran away from work cheerfully and said:
Gather up! Tomorrow we will fly to Leningrad.
It was in her style. Then it was passed on to me. She made a spontaneous decision and never later regretted it. It turned out, her institute friend broke up with another caregiver and flew to Sochi from the caperang, and the apartment in one room in the center of Peter for ten days could quite allocate to our disposal.
I was very pleased with Leningrad. My mother made a program. Hermitage, Kunstkamera, Nevsky, Petropavlovka, Pavlovsk and others. The cruiser Aurora was on its last day. But it was Tuesday, a sanitary day.
“Well, we go to the summer garden... Don’t be upset, son! The next time!
(I have never been to Aurora.)
It was a sunny day, the beginning of August. My foot hurt. The furuncle on the right bed was swallowed, my mother from the morning overwhelmed him, putting on the ichthyol. At the entrance we bought an Eskimo for 11 kopecks. Sit on the bench. Leningrad Eskimo of 11 kopecks - still the most delicious in the world! It is a pity, it ends quickly. Asking for the second is useless. I had a tough mother. We were sitting on the bench, glimpsing at the rare August sun in St. Petersburg.
A company approached us from the entrance. Two sympotaches with long hair and a guy with a twisted xub.
I don’t want your ice cream! Distance to!
The guy stopped around us.
The boy! Do you love ice cream? On to!
He gave me two Eskimo sticks and ran after the girls. I looked at my mother...
Slowly or even cold in the throat.
The wonderful summer of 1967 ended.
How history divided us! In the direct and in the translated sense. Is it forever?