<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521</id><updated>2009-08-25T12:22:25.029+10:00</updated><title type='text'>boynton</title><subtitle type='html'>I rarely have a name y'know</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default?orderby=updated'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;orderby=updated'/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>365</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-114173358091481589</id><published>2006-03-07T22:12:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T13:20:05.724+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Now blogging at boyntonesque.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/114173358091481589'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/114173358091481589'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2006_03_05_archive.html#114173358091481589' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-90904234</id><published>2003-03-18T15:15:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T13:02:02.899+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Boynton now has to summon the courage to go and ask her neighbour: Are you a dentist?  (She's heard it said) She needs a dentist apparently to witness her signature on a stat. dec. to order a new council wheelie bin. Her last one got pinched by some unauthorised persons.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/90904234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/90904234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_03_16_archive.html#90904234' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95318534</id><published>2003-06-05T16:01:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2006-10-18T13:01:00.899+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>boynton loves this description of a themed treasure hunt, both for the content and the form - hypertext complements the spatial event. When she first started playing pub trivia, she suspected there could some theatrical hybrid of the genre waiting in the wings. Perhaps this sort of promenade puzzling is a clue to other forms. Both for travellin' trivia and narrative/themed hyperdrama?</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95318534'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95318534'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95318534' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95225139</id><published>2003-06-03T15:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2004-06-23T12:51:22.363+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Because this word game is very close to this game,   boynton wonders if this what the blogosphere looks like?From an amazing collection of word game images via Incoming Signals. </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95225139'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95225139'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95225139' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95451145</id><published>2003-06-09T14:42:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-12-01T13:23:49.170+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>boynton has moved to hereplease update your links:http://boynton.ubersportingpundit.comcheers and thanks for the memories.so long and thanks for all the fish</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95451145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95451145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95451145' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95426619</id><published>2003-06-08T15:38:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-08T15:39:03.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Strangely, if we ever make the almost mandatory migratory move over the waters to MT, we may need to have a whole category devoted to Croquet. Following the postings on her family's early croaky history,  beer and croquet, the possible hidden subtext of the sport, and a link to an early Championess, boynton happened upon yet another strange take. Once again there is something reminiscent here of </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95426619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95426619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_08_archive.html#95426619' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95403410</id><published>2003-06-07T19:58:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-07T20:51:44.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>boynton's been having just your average psycho arvo with the old cryptic coding mysteries. The oblique will be straightened out anon. The pieces put together(Hitchcock mosaics via the amazing Fiendish is the word)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95403410'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95403410'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95403410' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95357875</id><published>2003-06-06T15:07:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-06T16:07:19.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>It was probably only ever me who considered Richmond Hill Cellars the key to Richmond's soul.  Interesting angle on inner-city gentrification in today's Age.(Although a long term resident of nearly Richmond, boynton wouldn't know which class of regular she falls into here: We stocked cheap sherry for the daytime lushes and diabetic beer for the sick. Bargain wine drew local intellectuals, failed</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95357875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95357875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95357875' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95319305</id><published>2003-06-05T16:32:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-05T17:07:12.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>boynton was feeling unusually lighthearted today as she stepped out with her pack, who chorus their crazy excitement half way down the echo chamber of this sedate street. In the close ethological observation of domestic dog school, boynton endorses the theory of emotion travelling down the leash. The leash is the link between you and your dog. Dogs can feel the vibrations you send through the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95319305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95319305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95319305' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95271797</id><published>2003-06-04T15:46:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-04T15:53:19.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>somewhere deep within boroondara last night boynton ran into an old theatre friend. She asked after boynton's writing, but alas. Boynton could not take herself seriously in this regard as she was still wearing her parka. Even though she was trying to recover this inner state, she was really only projecting this.And instead of wearing these sort of shoes, she was caught wearing these. Somewhere </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95271797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95271797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95271797' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95261671</id><published>2003-06-04T10:54:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-04T10:56:03.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>If this sink the bachelor game seems too bittery twistery, you can always play this old game.  (via Pop Culture Junk Mail)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95261671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95261671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95261671' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95218443</id><published>2003-06-03T12:43:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-03T13:57:14.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>As an update to the last- that is impossible to post within...  All this talk of ponds may have cursed us, or lent a tragic-comedic twist to things. Boynton is stationed away from her domestic keyboard and is captive to the Big Pond word limit restrictions. All these glaring errors and minor improvements to be dealt with last night, but there they were floating unhappily on the network problems </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95218443'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95218443'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95218443' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95187114</id><published>2003-06-02T21:43:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-03T12:34:32.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Ambling around Wood's lot, Boynton notes that it is indeed the birthday of Thomas Hardy. Less than 3 hours left. Can boynton assemble something suitable in the time? All things being equal, timing inevitably comes into play. But now this is compounded by the intervention of our old friend with the oddly divine sounding name, Mr HaloScan, who has again acted capriciously and cruelly taken us out, </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95187114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95187114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95187114' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95150613</id><published>2003-06-01T22:29:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-06-01T22:30:54.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Profile of  Ronald So protective is McDonald's of the character's mystique that men who play Ronald are never to admit that they do. Ronalds in costume aren't to say who they are in civilian life... (via Arts and Letters Daily)To preserve the illusion that there is only one Ronald, the chain forbids two Ronalds from ever appearing together except at a secret biennial convention McDonald's holds </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95150613'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95150613'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_06_01_archive.html#95150613' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95106301</id><published>2003-05-31T12:56:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-31T13:00:42.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This man is not a larrikin, but Google Images thinks he is.boynton was out doing a quick scout about for images on behalf of esnet who expressed some interest in the word. As larrikins "were as much recognisable by their get-up as by their behaviour..." she was trying to find some representative jpegs. Perhaps another Google suggestion was closer to the mark, or even the same bloke in a cloth </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95106301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95106301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95106301' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95069510</id><published>2003-05-30T16:30:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-30T16:31:59.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>boynton likes the look of these souped-up commodore PC's. (via b3ta) Although the toaster remains her favourite model. But if we're talking serious retro appliance convergence, she wonders if someone can work in her favourite: the classic Sunbeam Mixmaster? And if in the future her telephone is going to be web-aware, she hopes it can still look something like this (via Scrubbles)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95069510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95069510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95069510' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95063555</id><published>2003-05-30T13:25:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-30T13:25:36.480+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>boynton's feeling a bit under the weather today -( which is quite really sunny). Not quite as bad as tourette syndrome barbie, but NQR enough to go and seek out some quality vitamin D for company. (via Lindsay Marshall) </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95063555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95063555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95063555' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-95024750</id><published>2003-05-29T15:51:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-29T16:00:50.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>boynton has spent some of the morning simply soaking up the sun. She has many years of sun deprivation to make up for, and perhaps a bout of SADness to fend off.She recalled reading an article about writers and their chosen work-places, with solitude listed as the key ingredient. But boynton sides with Shaw (who constructed a revolving hut to follow the sunlight) and votes for the sun as number </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95024750'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/95024750'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#95024750' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-94979737</id><published>2003-05-28T18:00:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-28T18:16:11.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A time of general displacement? Boynton's trivia team has moved on and is now "between venues". The other night we travelled eastwards and found ourselves in a foreign land; a themed pub pub, a cavernous trestled tavern, of unknown faces, stupid global questions instead of our preferred local, personalised and folk-loric quiz. Indeed it was so loud and so dense that boynton watched it with the </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94979737'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94979737'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#94979737' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-94920382</id><published>2003-05-27T12:20:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-27T12:23:12.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>This is what boynton would probably have to say for herself. (via J walk)(nb you may have to reload (we say refresh here) to hear it.)</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94920382'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94920382'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#94920382' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-94887681</id><published>2003-05-26T17:04:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-26T17:09:46.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Haunted ...walking through this suburbe, non-descripte, of popular moderne mid-century houses, Boynton saw a real estate sign that said. Central locality...life, but the street tells another story. Only the early morning carolling of mowers and hedge-trimmers would indicate a pulse . Perhaps all inhabitants have taken a vow of silence, allowing only their dogs to speak, their Labradors to leave </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94887681'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94887681'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#94887681' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-94857220</id><published>2003-05-25T21:55:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-25T22:03:55.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Is it shaped like  a hot dog? Boynton has passed a quiet Sunday playing parlour games like 20 questions.(via Incoming Signals)This has often seemed just as uncanny to play IRL as it does on-line, and just as open to dispute once one strays outside the binary lines. Thinking of her dearest companion she was stumped by “Does it have a pointy snout” Depends what you mean by pointy surely. And it is</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94857220'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94857220'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_25_archive.html#94857220' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-94823213</id><published>2003-05-24T20:36:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-24T21:52:24.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>A recent commenter - (our only one of late in fact) - cast nasturtiums on the works of the great Jane Austen: Soapies with ivy. Like Blogger itself, this caused boynton temporary pause, as she could not at first recall which of JA's novels featured a heroine of that name. A bit of googling and searching her own shelves however sooncleared the matter up.Ivy Bonnet is the heroine of Jane </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94823213'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94823213'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94823213' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-94780498</id><published>2003-05-23T21:13:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-23T21:13:50.353+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>Because The Pause that Refreshes keeps Pausing.</summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94780498'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94780498'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94780498' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3863521.post-94772219</id><published>2003-05-23T15:03:00.000+10:00</published><updated>2003-05-23T16:10:13.000+10:00</updated><title type='text'></title><summary type='text'>These Rules for Writers (via J Walk) make boynton feel very nervous in a fine china sort of way.  She's sure she's broken them all, possibly in the same sentence. Just tote up  the damage for us thank you, and put it on the slate.Like the beatles, Jane Austen always charts well in the top of the pops polls. Of course we would always vote for Jane, as would these fellow admirers...On the same </summary><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94772219'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3863521/posts/default/94772219'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://boynton.blogspot.com/2003_05_18_archive.html#94772219' title=''/><author><name>boynton</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/14018259111564295592</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:extendedProperty xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' name='OpenSocialUserId' value='08654249736839334367'/></author></entry></feed>