Word: drinking
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Sleeping Field. Last week his Country Flavor Editorial Service sent out a quiet piece that illustrated what he meant. Wrote Pearson: "Go to an open ridge on a sunny, crisp January afternoon when the snow blanket is deep and drink of the beauty on white hills. Earth lies patiently sleeping . . . Above walls and fences sumacs hold scraggly arms with faded, brown-flame candles . . . Winter birds call from the groves; regal cock pheasants stalk along the hedgerows with their meek ladies. This is the heart of winter . . . but in the tightly wrapped buds is assurance of the Great Promise...
...fervently. At Piccadilly, amid the hooters and factory sirens that will mingle with all the city's bells, young men and girls will surge around Eros, wildly yelling, singing, dancing. Less riotously, nearly 8,000,000 Londoners (provided they have been lucky enough to secure a bottle) will drink a family toast around their firesides. A few, hailing from England's northern counties, will keep their old annual customs...
...people drink? Pollsters from the National Opinion Research Center, who went around asking, got a variety of answers. Said a Pennsylvania housewife: "People think you are dead if you don't." Said a schoolteacher from rural Wisconsin: "I guess just to be sociable. I don't care for it at all; I just choke it down." As a North Carolina building contractor expressed it: "When I drink I feel important." A Georgia farmer: "Drinking takes me right...
Most frequent reason for drinking is "sociability" (38%), reported three Rutgers University sociologists in the current Quarterly Journal of Studies on Alcohol. Women, the researchers found, are much more likely than men to drink merely to be sociable. Pointing out that science does not yet know how to tell the difference between a potential alcoholic and a drinker who can take it or let it alone, the Rutgers sociologists offer a tip to hosts: never insist on anyone's taking a drink; serve soft drinks along with the hard...
Once a week for 81 years (wartime excepted), the reigning wits of Punch have met in an elegant office at London's 10 Bouverie Street to eat, drink beer, make puns, argue politics and carve their initials in the dining table. Last week, at the famed Punch Round Table, the ghosts of onetime Punchinellos Tennyson, Thackeray and Mark Lemon might have quit the premises in disgust. For the first time in its history, the venerable humor magazine was to have an editor who was an artist instead of a writer...