Peach (by Sea)

Peach immediately brings to mind the fruit, peach, with it’s fuzzy, downy “fur” like the fine hair that covers a new born baby’s body. The first time you encounter that it is amazing, and it doesn’t stay long. People say that peaches are like a baby’s skin.
Peach slices with evaporated milk after cold meat sandwiches as a treat on a Sunday teatime. Or sometimes with bread and butter as a meal. Mum says we didn’t have that, so how come I remember having it. At least I never ate sugar butties, although Mum said she had them when she was young.
Granddad had a peach tree in his greenhouse, right next to the boiler. I remember it having tiny fruits on it one year, and when it was Granddad’s funeral the tree was still there. But by the time Grandma died the garden, The Ponderosa, was unkempt. The greenhouse was falling down, but the peach tree growing strong. Guess it didn’t need protecting against Pennine wind as much as Granddad thought.
Peach, peach, peach, each peach, pear, plum, I spy Tom Thumb, Tom Thumb in the cupboard, I spy Mother Hubbard. Oliver loved that book. I love nectarines much better than peaches, but you get some nasty ones. I think they must have been irriradiated as they never seem to ripen, and biting into them is like biting into an apple. Not the lovely experience it should be. The odd thing is, I’ve found that fruit from Netto and Aldi doesn’t seem to have been treated in anyway, and yes it does go off quicker, but when you pick it up, you can smell if it is ripe or not.
Peach, a lovely colour. I always think of it as an orangey – pink colour, but the ones in tins are yellow! Hmm, why?