Summer in Ireland means many different things - long evenings, school holidays, rain, hurling finals, rain, package holidays, a bit of sun, rain, ice-cream. Luscious, sensuous, cooling, the last of these is perhaps the only one to win universal favour, whether your taste runs to Haagen Daz's Bailey's variety or a Freaky Foot on a stick. And nowhere can the manifestation of the addictive hold that ice-cream has on the human spirit be seen more clearly than at Teddy's in Dun Laoghaire, Co Dublin.

Driving over the hump that leads to Newtonsmith (that little patch of Dun Laoghaire leading up to the Joyce's Tower promontory), many a first-time visitor has cried "Wotizzit?" as a snaking line of humanity is spotted briefly on the slope of the hill. Seasoned residents can explain: it's the queue for Teddy's, of course. On a busy Sunday or warm weekday this can number up to 30. You'd think they were giving the ice-cream away.

Teddy's has been a south Dublin institution (and even northsiders know of it) for half a century. One ice-cream connoisseur, who wishes to be known only as "Magnum", remembers queuing at Teddy's in the late 1950s during family visits from Cork.

"Our mother was very particular about what we ate, and very wary of unwrapped ice-cream. Mostly she confined us to Hughes Brothers brand which, being Protestants, we were tutored to call `Aitch Bee' to distinguish from the Catholics who called it `Haitch Bee'. But the one exception Mother would make was for Teddy's," he recalled, beginning to drool a little.

The ice-cream was impeccable, but much of the charm of Teddy's lay in the personality of its eponymous owner, Teddy Jacob. Resplendent in a cravat, and equalled by his long-time partner, Austin Doyle, Teddy brought a dash of style to ingestion of the popular mixture of milk solids, cream, gelatine and flavouring. Teddy and Austin were an important fixture on the social scene outside shop hours, welcomed at all the best dinner-tables for their wit and charm, and their wide knowledge of gardening.

Over the years the small premises opposite the Dun Laoghaire sea baths has gone through a number of incarnations. Liam Fitzpatrick, who runs a bed-and-breakfast near the Dun Laoghaire DART, remembers them all. "There was a steakhouse there at one point, and at another stage tea-rooms and they even opened a boutique-type gift shop," Mr Fitzpatrick said. These were all housed in the Orchard House extension of the property which is now home to a computer firm. "At one stage my wife and I thought we would like to buy the business, but when Teddy came to sell the price was too high." He has no doubt why. "It's such a good business: Teddy and Austin would stand behind the hatch on a hot day just flinging pounds and coins and fivers into the till."

Teddy and Austin, who sold up more than two years ago, now divide their time between a home in the south of France (where they also have a small gift shop), a house in Naples and Morocco - their love of the Maghreb region of north Africa is linked to their other calling as painters.

Teddy still corresponds with Rita Shannon from Sallynoggin, who has been the deputy and mainstay at Teddy's for two decades.

Teddy's is now run by Shakool Hamid Khan ("call me Brian, I had the nickname even in South Africa") who is continuing the grand tradition both in the product and the personality behind the hatch. A constant stream of greeting, flirting and jokes issues forth as he effortlessly piles eye-popping swirls into crunchy cones and dispenses them to the patient faithful. Originally from Durban, Brian (56) has lived in Ireland since the 1960s. He married an Irish woman (who died just over two years ago) and has three children who sometimes help him when things get hot.

For many people, the little shop is enshrined in memory as the place where they bought their first "99", with the chocolate Flake proudly emergent from a swirl of creamy vanilla. One day last week the scene could have been those early days, as a family group - mother in flowered dress and cardigan, child in sandals, Dad in his shirt sleeves - walked slowly away from the hatch, carefully cradling their precious purchases.