Word: bonneted
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...francs worth of fresh paint and plaster. White-lipped but determined, Archinard waited for quiet, then returned to his machine. Brushing aside bits of broken glass, he proceeded to bat out an eyewitness account of the bombing that added another feather to radio newscasting's well-feathered war bonnet. The German advance has closed one after another outlet to U. S. war broadcasters. But while they had spots to talk from, they have done their jobs well...
...Fellow of the Royal College of Surgeons, and now in the midst of his second World War, once again brought forth his breastplate, this time in the British Medical Journal. He begged his colleagues to help "either in ridding me of a bee that has been buzzing in my bonnet for over 30 years, or in bringing [it] to the notice of the authorities...
Injection of Socialists, sure to offend the Right, was balanced by including more Rightists as undersecretaries. The new Premier kept for himself the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, handed over his beloved Finance Ministry to Radical Socialist Lucien Lamoureux, a yes-man. Georges Bonnet, Minister of Justice in the outgoing Cabinet (Minister of Foreign Affairs in the days of "Munich"), was left out of the new Cabinet altogether. The Air Ministry, previously held by Radical Socialist Guy La Chambre, went to Left Democrat Laurent Eynac who has held this job before-no ball of fire...
McArthur's first big chance came in 1935, when Diva Kirsten Flagstad was looking around for an accompanist. He wrote her a letter, got an audition, was soon touring the world playing at her concerts. Meanwhile he had taken another bee into his bonnet. Between concerts he was hard at work in his hotel rooms studying scores, practicing how to beat time. Two years ago in Sydney, Australia, McArthur persuaded Flagstad to let him try his hand at conducting while she sang. He carried out the job like a veteran, and the Sydney critics gave him top marks. After...
...still, we'd hate to see Mr. Conant lose his common touch in this sudden access of fame. It is understandable that a Harvard president must look to his wardrobe, but also let him keep up on his mountaineering. For sheer refreshment, Calvin Coolidge in an Indian war bonnet is nothing to the sight of Mr. Conant on a mountain top, coatless, hatless, and unkempt. And some day, if the Fates are kind, we may catch a glimpse of him lounging along Quincy St., in a shabby tweed jacket, and trousers breaking slightly around the knee...