Heavy-eyed, slightly cross, our London friend descends the stairs, 'I couldn't sleep for the sound of peaches falling from the trees.' His mind haunted by the peaches he would not eat, he said He tossed and turned and cursed his parsimonious ancestry That warned 'waste not, want not' as peaches fell, inedible, from the trees. - from JP and Doina who did not always make the puddings JG so loved eating -