An old lady brought me two bags of peaches to the shop. It was very hot and she was very hot but the peaches she struggled in were small and red and yellow and confident and healthy. The ones I normally buy are large and cool and empty. She has just two fruit trees in her backyard, a plum and a peach and she picks all the fruit herself because she can’t abide waste.
I always get a bagful and so does her doctor. But somewhere there is a hairdresser who Does Not Get Any. She said that at her age she cannot waste time reading a book that she doesn’t like and she doesn’t like the ones they talk about on TV because they are a load of rubbish. Like the peaches one buys from those supermarkets. Once I found her a book she very much wanted and now I get the gift of all this glorious fruit.
Photography by Ian Baldwin