Category Archives: peaches
on a round trip…
The seemingly endless summers of my childhood have made a welcome return. Maybe not the very same ones, but there are moments when a particular combination of sensations takes me clearly back in time. I have found that the station … Continue reading
when first we flatten to deceive…
At this time of year Nature conspires with men to produce a contrariness in the flattened versions of some stoned fruit. A peach is a peach when it is suggestive; when its curves make one smile with greedy lust; when the … Continue reading
Summer thoughts…
The laziness of summer days can be deliciously enervating. Only the bees are immune to this lassitude. August brings the humming noise of quietness to the garden which means that the last delinquent fledglings of this year are preparing to leave. In the … Continue reading
a little peach on peach action…..
Pêche de Vigne, as a name, would not be out of place on a burlesque billboard.The annual appearance of the flat peach is an event to which I look forward and by which I have never been disappointed. Before moving … Continue reading
Peaches and dream..
Something as delicious as a bowl of peaches in the sun is to be sniffed at. The scent that rises from peaches drinking sunlight intoxicates as the flesh beneath their velvet covering softens and melts with the suffusion of nectar making the first … Continue reading
Clinging on in heavy syrup….a wet dream
On most nights I have a dream and, although in my waking moments I have begun to forget everyone and everything’s name, I very often retain a clear image of some tiny fragment of each night’s unconstrained meanderings. This morning’s memory … Continue reading
It’d take more than an apple to tempt Adam…
Given the choice of watching paint dry or onions browning, I’d opt to sit on a terrace overlooking clear blue sea with a chilled glass of something delicious . I take this choice whenever I’m engaged in important, but time … Continue reading
The rod that I’ve attached to my back…
..is particularly uncomfortable on a hot day such as this. There is enough clay in the feet that keep me upright, and uptight, on my lofty soap box, to make posh terracotta pots from which everyone can eat their budget … Continue reading
The Colour Violette…
On the way to La Rochelle there is an Oasis, set in a shady clearing by the roadside, that is only open for the summer months. L’Oasis is a shack, the open side of which is filled with trays overflowing … Continue reading
….through the cooking glass …
As with Alice, the reverse can be, and often is, the truth. The real joy lies in the contents of the cooking glass passing through the cook. Sadly there is no clear reference as to how much joy can be … Continue reading