unearths some literary gems.
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Ward felt that each morning Joseph Francis arranged his features and kept them that way, unruffled, unmoved, imperturbable.
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Uncles, cousins, grandfathers, mothers, they had all come out in a welter of storied incident, mingled with births, deaths and street names. [I like the anticlimax of the ending!]
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"Tommy had skedaddled and was heading for Liverpool or God's to know where"
[I don't recall hearing before this variation on "God knows where," implying that God doesn't know *yet* but will get the memo eventually.]
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Bonus: A trio of towns called Ovingham, Hartburn, and Ogle
