Word: bucket
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...knife-fork-spoon combination that clips together costs 70?. A length of nylon line is handy for lashing bedrolls and tents. Flashlights and spare batteries should be packed, as well as a small kerosene lamp, books, matches in a waterproof case, first-aid kit, candle, knife, hatchet, bucket, small trench shovel, mosquito repellent, aluminum foil, toilet paper, foul-weather clothing, cameras, binoculars, a good topographical map (available at park and forest headquarters), handy nature guides and a Thermos...
...than a year turning the Fords' Grosse Pointe Farms estate into a Versailles-like setting for the familiar blueblood-boiling beat of Bandleader Meyer Davis. And not even an hours-long downpour-which soaked through the turquoise-colored roof of the vast pavilion and kept a mop-and-bucket brigade of 70 swabbing through the night -could douse the enthusiasm of the stag line, as Anne's photograph album of her coming-out will forever record...
...story of this gentlest of war films is true, or so its producers claim: a French soldier working in a German prison farm escapes, making himself invisible by carrying a bucket and borrowing a cow, a two-tone job with fetching eyelashes. The two set out for the French border 400 miles away. The arrangement works beautifully; Marguerite feeds Fernandel when he is hungry, and he tells stories to her when she is bored. The Germans never tumble. Eventually they reach the Rhine, and by this time Fernandel and Marguerite are in love. All the bridges have been bombed...
...fastest seller. Its registered sales in the first four months were off by more than 100,000 from 1960, but its share of the market held fairly steady at 21%. Chevy lost part of its sales to its own brother, Corvair, which scored with the Monza-a hot-selling, bucket-seat job that increased Corvair's market slice from 3.3% to 5.6%, second highest among individual compact models...
When he is in his palace, the bishop of one of the largest Roman Catholic dioceses in the world rolls out of a hammock at 3:45 every morning and pads barefoot across the rough wood floor to wash in a bucket of cold water. Then, in a grey cassock, red skullcap, and big, gold pectoral cross, he hurries next door to the cathedral to say Mass. His congregation is a ragged handful of fishermen and their barefoot wives; their boats pull out after the service just as the sun is reddening the Amazon...