She was confused. Now that he had worked himself into a snit he'd be angry if she unmade the bed and did what he wanted. If she didn't make it properly, he'd be resentful. She stripped the bed. She'd change the linens.

His real name was Leonard, Len. He'd changed it when he came East. Len, he said. A turd of a name. Who wants it? I mean a name that ends in a nasalization, for Christ's sake. Leo now. It's like Anna. They go on forever. You can live with a name like that.

However, something once happened on the railway there which showed the very best of mankind: heroism, duty, self-sacrifice and calm professionalism under terrible pressure. It is a story which gives us far, far better reasons for remembering this attractive little town, which without these heroes would have been blown to smithereens in a gigantic explosion. (Two railwaymen lost their lives in 1944 when a wagon in an ammunition train caught fire and blew up, an even worse disaster was averted however.)

By this operation each foot will describe an arc or segment of a circle. … This evolution is performed sometimes on one foot, sometimes on the other …