It's a strange thing this yellow liquid, the bodily fluid of a stranger. What was he thinking when he shot his wad? Is he somewhere now wondering about his sperm? Is he at this very moment wondering if a woman somewhere is inseminating with his seed? Well, we are! Here we are in Boston, and we are!

Nay, nay, Reynallt, said Ap Teudor, replying to the angry glance of the Forester, thou saddlest the wrong steed: like the Abbot, I have no voice but that of obedience. Used figuratively.

Who has not known some even-tempered old man or woman who seemed to have drunk of the fountain of youth?

It is only a decade or so since the air was thick with muttering that L.M.S. influence was far too strong on the newly-born Railway Executive and that too many L.M.S. practices were being foisted on the rest of the system.