One of the things she didn’t like about being fashionable was the miserable sort of tea people gave you in London—little wafery curls of bread and butter, and the sort of sandwich that wouldn’t keep a butterfly alive.

We had discovered a mutual appreciation for saganaki, that artery busting, salt laden, fried goat's cheese.

A good lunar lander or Pong-type game was all you needed to strike it rich!

The pigeon-hole was also stuffed with circulars and hand-bills.