Page 28 - Demo

Ditching the Guff14Pinching PeachesAt home in the 50s, Dad dished out discipline;his strap, hung behind our kitchen door,a warning against children%u2019s cheek.As a dictator wields tariffs to have his way,the leer of the strap enough.Mum, a stay-at-home housewife;time filled with the tedium of every day.Her garden boasted vegies and two fruit trees.Apricots morphed into jam fit for Gods,preserves served with custard for many desserts.Our peaches had skin any female would envy;plump, glowing with promise; a rosy hue more naturalthan Revlon rouge; flesh, luscious with juice,as only a home-grown could be.But, Dad%u2019s tree%u2014kids forbidden.When peaches were a tick from ripening,pickpocket slick, we siblings snaffled a few.Salivating over the feast to come,we pedalled our bone-shakersto cubbies in nearby ti-tree scrub.Ambrosia ran down our chins as we slurpedour spoils in secret, sucked fingerssticky as molasses%u2014shared grinswrought revenge over Dad%u2019s powerand Mum%u2019s submission.