I then get out my trusty mouli and run the whole lot through it (my lovely friend and clever cooking teacher, Paola Bacchia, tells me Italians call a mouli, a 'passatutto', which sounds so much more lyrical to me).

There is a house in Cherry street, not far from Catherine Market […]. A little to the north of its door stands an old-time tree; and for many a year it has been known to the “crossmen” and “knucks” of the town as “Jack Circle's watering place” and “fence.”

D., who would catch the tide, G., with his notions wide, Each is temporicide — Time's reckless murderer:

He is a well-thought-of and endearing old fellow.