often seen in the street without a hat

I first read the Tales of the City books when I was a relatively naive 13 year old, and I think they made me unshockable for a while - nothing now, no matter how extreme, could possibly shock and amaze me as much as reading about glory holes did when I was 13! I was also so naive that when Mrs Madrigal taped joints to their doors, I thought they were joints....of meat. I swear to God. I love those books, though - pure soap opera, but soap of the most entertaining kind. I think they, along with Maurice by EM Forster, also got rid of all my vague pubescent homophobia (which was of the 'but everyone seems to think it's disgusting!' kind rather than anything more vicious). The last few books aren't vaguely as good as the first four, though.