"Slowly, like a woman in a theatrical production of her own personal tragedy, Mrs Blitz came towards him, her arms outstretched, and she clutched him so tight around the chest that he could feel her bony ribs through the thick fabric of his vest, her terrible scarecrow thinness, and it was all he could do to embrace her like a son, and consolingly stroke her frayed black hair, and whisper, ‘Mama…another tarrarom? … now what for?’" (source)

"And that’s what I walked away from this whole tararam with – that while my lifestyle, personality, and personal practices may sometimes jive with the world’s standards of normal, and that’s all fine, I shall be equally proud where they don’t." (source)