Word: coating
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...Soviet writer the opportunity to research a book on Lenin's stay in Britain? Kuznetsov transferred his Russian royalty payments to his wife and nine-year-old son. After photographing the pages of his unpublished works, he sewed the 35-mm. film into the lining of his coat. Into his suitcase Kuznetsov crammed copies of his published works* and other manuscripts...
...Free of mamka, Kuznetsov immediately dashed for the nearest British government office. A civil servant telephoned a Russian-speaking journalist, David Floyd, the Daily Telegraph's Soviet expert. Floyd instructed the defector to take a cab to his home. Since the evening was warm, Kuznetsov had left his coat in the hotel. He insisted that they return to his single room in the Apollo Hotel to get his film-laden coat and documents. Kuznetsov also retrieved his typewriter ("my old favorite") and some Cuban cigars ("They are so cheap in Moscow"). Then the two men rushed to a waiting...
Decked out in a navy-blue double-breasted coat complete with brass buttons, the lass made a brave show of downing the traditional ration of grog. "It tastes quite nice, but I don't think I could manage the whole tot," said Princess Anne, 18, after a few sips. She did better at the British Navy dice game of "great uckers," rolling a six and helping her team to victory. Actually, the Princess' only fluff on her official review of the frigate H.M.S. Eastbourne involved the time-honored British chip. "You'll have to come to Buckingham...
...hotel room, going out only once before morning to talk to a man he identified as a clerk. Russell E. Peachey, actually a co-owner of the Shiretown Inn, later told TIME Correspondent Frank Merrick that he did indeed see Kennedy at 2:25 a.m., dressed in a suit coat and trousers that appeared dry. Kennedy complained that party noise from an adjacent building was keeping him awake, and inquired what the time was. To Peachey, Kennedy did not seem to be acting or talking strangely. As in the phase of his story concerning his escape from the Oldsmobile...
...typical autobiographical Babel childhood story, the reader slips into the author's atmosphere of old Odessa as if it were a familiar coat. Within a framework of shop-lined streets, savory meals and sturdy furnishings, the young narrator casually spins the tale of his grandmother, an embittered illiterate who urges her grandson to study hard and learn everything. To her, knowledge is not an instrument of discovery but a weapon of revenge that will bring the world to its knees...