Word: blizzarded
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Wodehouse characters, Waugh once said, "have never tasted the forbidden fruit. They are still in Eden." Indeed, a wonderful, innocent foolishness makes them all irresistible: Wallace Chesney, Rodney Spelvin, Blizzard the butler, and the Wrecking Crew (four retired businessmen whose progress over the course resembles "one of those great race migrations of the Middle Ages"). As befits an idyl, the weather is routinely gorgeous ("butterflies loafed languidly, birds panted in the shady recesses of the trees"), and the sun shines gently...
Jacques Cousteau: Blizzard at Hope Bay. The explorer almost gets stranded in this one, but virtue triumphs in the end. Rod Serling narrates. Ch. 4, 8:30 p.m. 1 hour...
...never heard the story before," conceded a youthful character in another story, caught in a synagogue by a blizzard. He ends up listening to a series of long and incredible stories about things like Polish squires who sleep in coffins and are carried off to peasant wives by floods. "What do you young people know, anyway?" the storyteller replies. In fact, there seems to be just one truth on which young people and old can rely absolutely...
...city rooms of many American newspapers are cousins in dishevelment: battered typewriters, mounds of gnawed pencils and crumbling gum erasers, a perpetual blizzard of paper. Nor would turn-of-the-century newsmen have any trouble recognizing many contemporary composing rooms with their mastodonic Linotype machines (first used in 1886) that engorge hot metal and spit out lines of type at a lumbering pace. Of all commercial activities, few have seemed more immune to technological progress than the production of daily papers. But the pace of change is now accelerating. In a small but growing number of offices, reporters are writing...
...plot of the 1952 play was distinctly threadbare: seven candidates for the Distressed Gentlefolk's Aid Association trapped by a blizzard in a provincial guesthouse with a maniacal killer. But Murder Manufacturer Agatha Christie said optimistically, "I do think we will get quite a good run out of it," as she signed over all royalties to her grandson Mathew Prichard, 9. Twenty-one years later, The Mousetrap has become the longest running play ever, totting up 8,717 performances in London and earning $7.5 million. Prichard, now 30 and a gentleman farmer in Wales, declined to comment...