WHENEVER I hear the chimes of an ice cream van - sadly, a rare event these days - memory goes into overdrive and I am transported back to seemingly more innocent, carefree times.

The appearance of the Mr Whippy ice cream van round our way was in the summer a daily event to be anticipated above all others.

This week's news that the Government is to relax the law to allow ice cream van chimes to ring out for 12 seconds a time, rather than the current four seconds, is I think, a welcome one.

I had not realised however, quite how regulated are the practices of the ice cream van.

Some councils apparently, do not allow them, because of health worries linked to childhood obesity, while in some areas vans must be changed every five years to keep them ahead of restrictions on carbon emissions.

There are also bans on chimes after 7pm, when rival vans are already trading, and within 50 metres of places of worship, hospitals, and schools.

Chimes must not be louder than 80 decibels, and cannot be sounded on the same street more than once every two hours.

Little wonder that since the 1970s, the number of ice cream vans trading on the streets of the UK has dwindled from more than 250,000 to just a few hundred.

Ah, the 1970s... Because of the photographs my family and I have from back then, most of my memories of that decade are painted in the bleached out colours of the camera film stock of the age, the ones with the colour codes down the sides and the brash glossy surfaces.

Quite a lot of them too feature children, myself included, with ice cream in various stages of the melting process on faces or striped t-shirts.

And the biggest memory of all has a soundtrack. Not something Tops of the Pops-awful, but inextricably linked to the ice cream van of my childhood... Greensleeves.

The van that came most regularly to the streets where I grew up invariably played Greensleeves.

You could hear it first of all several streets - but seemingly miles - away, on the edge of hearing, inducing a sense of mild panic and of excitement too... "where's mum?" "Can I have an ice cream today?" "a flake and strawberry sauce please..."

But on this particular day, something was awry. Our eight-year-old heads couldn't comprehend it at first, but then, as the sound drew nearer, we realised - Greensleeves was slowing down.

By the time Mr Whippy arrived in our street that naggingly eerie tune, on reflection perhaps the most un-ice-cream-van-like signature tune ever chosen, had slowed to a crawl, its notes horribly drawn out.

Mr Whippy - we all just assumed that was his name - was looking very worried. He stopped his van and instead of curling out the ice cream into cones from the machine, began to mutter and punch at what must have been a cassette tape device in his cab.

Thumping noises were interspersed with snatches of a still distressed recording of a traditional English folk song.

After a few minutes there arose among us kids the thought that somehow, the well-being of Greensleeves was tied up with the supply of ice cream.

Some of our dads appeared, muffled conversations were had with Mr Whippy, a cassette tape was examined, wires were fiddled with, and suddenly... out it rang, Greensleeves in all its glory.

We cheered because that meant the ice cream was saved and no doubt, to our juvenile minds, it tasted even better for the averting of a musical disaster.

I don't know whether any van uses Greensleeves these days. I daresay a 16th Century ballad is no longer hip enough to accompany the selling of ice cream.

But there exists a Code of Practice on Noise from Ice Cream Van Chimes. Honest. It can be found at www.gov.uk/government/publications/code-of-practice-on-noise-from-ice-cream-van-chimes The move to 12-second chimes is part of a shake-up of said code, which has remained unchanged for more than 30 years.

Perhaps while they are about it, those in charge of making the changes could insert a clause making the use of Greensleeves mandatory in all ice cream vans.

Just for old times' sake...