Nectarines twelve pence each. Normally they’re fifty each. I want ten, big juicy, scrumptious, sweet nectarines. Not just any ten. Ten hand-picked, selected from their less appealing peers, an activity like judging Miss Nectarine World. The ten I pick go forward into the final, only one will win. “And the winner is” . . . stuffed in my watering mouth.
