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 Austen's obscure and unfinished manuscript Class and Class-mobility recently adapted for TV by the BBC. It tells the story of the progressively impoverished Bonnet clan who have been forced to relocate first from the gatehouse of their former Estate, to the gamekeeper’s cottage, making way for a succession of distant male heirs. Now the pending arrival of their curate cousin- obscurely-removed means that unless either Ivy or her sister Pedestal can quickly secure his hand in marriage they will have to once again move, this time from the Gamekeeper's Cottage to the Stables. There are no out-buildings left.
Meanwhile the village is abuzz with the sudden return of Admiral FitzSeizure to his country Estate, as he is somehow strangely single. In the televised version of C&C
The ball at Mantlepiece Park forms the central motif, as Ivy adeptly turns down proposals from a dozen suitors while maintaining the strict regulated form of the
Dance. Her bosom, already described a “generous” is upgraded by the flattering line of the Regency Gown to “promiscuous”. It is here too that Pedestal makes the famous observation:
“Do you not wish, Ivy, that we could be born 200 years hence, so our fortunes did not rely so heavily on securing the first available curate?”
“Indeed,” (Ivy replies) " for then I could be an aviatrix or perhaps a forensic psychiatrist…But what fun we should also have to forego – like making endless sport of our suitors.” This banter has secured C&C a place in academia as critics puzzle over the irony or not inherent in the proto-feminist lament.
Miraculously for the Bonnets, the curate cousin is single with a GSOH and after she dispatches a Sonata adequately on the zither at a soiree, it's apparent that an understanding is forming between Pedestal and her cousin. But calamity strikes as the party daringly walk into the village, and Pedestal (in a display lacking sufficient class and mobility) suddenly breaks into a skip and trips on a pebble, falling to the ground. It is Ivy's cool and pointing ways in this emergency that finally seduces the Admiral into desiring a dependable first-aid companion of his own, and he proposes to her in the front cupboard of the Gamekeeper's cottage.
Radically for Jane Austen, Ivy turns him down:
“I’m afraid Sir, through long-term disappointment I seem to have acquired the chronic condition of declining happiness when it is finally offered, and it is now my deepest wish to be nothing more or less than a congenial companion to my ageing whatnot…”
Readers and critics alike have long speculated on what may have transpired in the final unwritten chapters.
Friday, May 23, 2003
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 site, an excellent gathering of detractors, or women "clueless on the matter of JA." Fortunately we know Jane will have the last laugh. And for laughter, boynton may have also nominated Stevie Smith's The Holiday ( one of the op-shop Bulky Space killers she bought last year) for its funny pathos, and poetic mirth.
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 site, an excellent gathering of detractors, or women "clueless on the matter of JA." Fortunately we know Jane will have the last laugh. And for laughter, boynton may have also nominated Stevie Smith's The Holiday ( one of the op-shop Bulky Space killers she bought last year) for its funny pathos, and poetic mirth.
Thursday, May 22, 2003
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| You are not very reliable but people like you anyway because you are so easygoing and fun to be with. And cute, too. You just don't have a lot of guts up hills. And you seem to have stalled on us Which Blogging Tool/ VW Are You? |
If you are reading this you must be keen or lucky or know your way around blogger well enough to know to hit refresh three times before giving up. Thanks to Tony T, who connected the two disparate elements, of the People's car and the People's blog, or Bug and Blogger ( a curse well known in the blogosphere) It seems that Blogger has snuck the Bug in for a service, perhaps the whole engine needs replacing. Who knows. Luckily boynton is rather automotively illiterate so will not be able to go all metaphorical here and link to various puns in lieu of content, which is just as well really as she suspects that any link would be a one way ticket. So don't go here to see the sort of sign that Vdub drivers used to reluctantly heed on highways past, even if there may be some greater politcal analogy to be drawn. And don't go here either to see the sort of sign that would be preferable to the great white void. Bloggage may have to go linkless or show much more prudent use of the basic currency of the web than before. Expect some long posts about labradors.
Wednesday, May 21, 2003
Most VW owners who know anything about Beetles understand that something was different about 1967 Beetles
Like Feature number 6. Rear apron and deck lid - one year only.
More gratuitous pun fun with the beetles. Or is it so coincidental? Perhaps like Paul Carter’s place names, there is method in the madness of puns and namesakes, even if it’s just irony or poetry. Two cultural artefacts, icons of the twentieth century, whose respective mutations reflect societal (gear) shifts? In fact the VW beetle has been described as the car of the 20th century: a lens through which the whole cultural and political history of the century came into focus, from Nazism to the Sixties counterculture, the Cold War, to today’s global manufacturing (more).
Perhaps everyone has a beetle story, from the days when there was more flower than power.
But a confession: were Boynton to ever get car clucky (in an ideal utopian world) she would opt for the new beetle, which probably shows that the nostalgic spin worked (as opposed to the internet interactive? Marketing involved) She was around when they were universal and proud of it, the great anti-car statement. The Boyntons had an old grey “volksie” that could quite happily (or unhappily) accommodate many boyntons and their labradors and luggage, although maybe all 8 boyntons together would be pushing it even with us younger kids taking up our underling position in the “well” (where we often used to hide). It was the beloved car that used to herald its arrival a mile away, and shame those beatle-loving sisters with its motor-mower engine putt-putting up to the school gates in the presence of quieter vehicles, with their hush of posh. It was the car that ran over boynton’s young foot, when she greeted her mother along the running board one day, and the car where doors would fly open in mid-street. The car which passed in turn to the three eldest boynton girls on their P plates, before settling under a Kilsyth cyprus tree with the bones of dogs and ducks and dolls resting underneath. A Beetle gathering moss. Perhaps it was also the marvellous maroon VW toy car that her brother was given one Christmas. And then of course boynton’s first boyfriend drove a white volksie, that he had substantially re-fitted and whose name was (content edited to protect the innocent) – so again that familiar sound winding its way down our driveway, an obscure object indeed. Nostalgia gains momentum.
Like Feature number 6. Rear apron and deck lid - one year only.
More gratuitous pun fun with the beetles. Or is it so coincidental? Perhaps like Paul Carter’s place names, there is method in the madness of puns and namesakes, even if it’s just irony or poetry. Two cultural artefacts, icons of the twentieth century, whose respective mutations reflect societal (gear) shifts? In fact the VW beetle has been described as the car of the 20th century: a lens through which the whole cultural and political history of the century came into focus, from Nazism to the Sixties counterculture, the Cold War, to today’s global manufacturing (more).
Perhaps everyone has a beetle story, from the days when there was more flower than power.
But a confession: were Boynton to ever get car clucky (in an ideal utopian world) she would opt for the new beetle, which probably shows that the nostalgic spin worked (as opposed to the internet interactive? Marketing involved) She was around when they were universal and proud of it, the great anti-car statement. The Boyntons had an old grey “volksie” that could quite happily (or unhappily) accommodate many boyntons and their labradors and luggage, although maybe all 8 boyntons together would be pushing it even with us younger kids taking up our underling position in the “well” (where we often used to hide). It was the beloved car that used to herald its arrival a mile away, and shame those beatle-loving sisters with its motor-mower engine putt-putting up to the school gates in the presence of quieter vehicles, with their hush of posh. It was the car that ran over boynton’s young foot, when she greeted her mother along the running board one day, and the car where doors would fly open in mid-street. The car which passed in turn to the three eldest boynton girls on their P plates, before settling under a Kilsyth cyprus tree with the bones of dogs and ducks and dolls resting underneath. A Beetle gathering moss. Perhaps it was also the marvellous maroon VW toy car that her brother was given one Christmas. And then of course boynton’s first boyfriend drove a white volksie, that he had substantially re-fitted and whose name was (content edited to protect the innocent) – so again that familiar sound winding its way down our driveway, an obscure object indeed. Nostalgia gains momentum.
Tuesday, May 20, 2003
The social cost of blogging? (via Anil Dash)The proliferation of personal bloggers has led to a new social anxiety: the fear of getting blogged...
Luckily boynton doesn't overly stray into the dreaded confessional, (or even the journal) - pseudonyms or not.
Jonathan Van Gieson, a 29-year-old theatrical producer from Brooklyn who sometimes writes about friends on his site... said he gave his friends pseudonyms "to toe the line between simple harmless betrayal of trust and nasty actionable libel"...."My close friends are used to having their lives plundered," he said.. Boynton is used to having friends and family both make the disclaimer that this bit of dialogue or that scene is not for public use, and then at other times virtuallly pitch a scenario or tag line as good dramatic fodder. Luckily for all, lifting stuff "as is" rarely works. And we won't go down that perilous path in blogging either. Boynton would like to say though that both her neighbours do in fact sing well - that when she said they sounded "off key" she meant "deliberately atonal". Lullabies and nursery rhymes sound remarkably good at full punk.
Luckily boynton doesn't overly stray into the dreaded confessional, (or even the journal) - pseudonyms or not.
Jonathan Van Gieson, a 29-year-old theatrical producer from Brooklyn who sometimes writes about friends on his site... said he gave his friends pseudonyms "to toe the line between simple harmless betrayal of trust and nasty actionable libel"...."My close friends are used to having their lives plundered," he said.. Boynton is used to having friends and family both make the disclaimer that this bit of dialogue or that scene is not for public use, and then at other times virtuallly pitch a scenario or tag line as good dramatic fodder. Luckily for all, lifting stuff "as is" rarely works. And we won't go down that perilous path in blogging either. Boynton would like to say though that both her neighbours do in fact sing well - that when she said they sounded "off key" she meant "deliberately atonal". Lullabies and nursery rhymes sound remarkably good at full punk.
Monday, May 19, 2003
From Lullaby to Gonorrhea... Apologies for obscurity here, but like playing charades, boynton is trying to subtly point at this word-trivia collection...(via J walk) for the sake of her own pub trivia team, so as not to give the game away .To invoke another most-beautiful-word contender: ... Hush...
A new album of lost Beatles songs...Well actually just those ‘other’ Lennon-McCartney songs divvied out by Brian to lesser mortals. (via Pop Culture Junk Mail)
More newly discovered beetles here (via the Solipsistic Gazette)
"We live in the age of beetles," claims a group of scientists devoted to the study of this diverse and abundant insect family. (Boynton wonders if we now live in an age where insects indeed dominate, and when people hear beetles they again think insects before four motley lads from Liverpool or even V-dubs. You say you want a revolution?...) But which Beatle would be the Winged Ant the Slime Mold, or even the Pleasing Fungus Beetle?
update...beware Beetle damage (via Plep)
More newly discovered beetles here (via the Solipsistic Gazette)
"We live in the age of beetles," claims a group of scientists devoted to the study of this diverse and abundant insect family. (Boynton wonders if we now live in an age where insects indeed dominate, and when people hear beetles they again think insects before four motley lads from Liverpool or even V-dubs. You say you want a revolution?...) But which Beatle would be the Winged Ant the Slime Mold, or even the Pleasing Fungus Beetle?
update...beware Beetle damage (via Plep)
Sunday, May 18, 2003
boynton has been staying in one of the spare empty rooms at Nora's, some six k away but may as well be the country for its quiet calm. No street noise, no nocturnal car revving, no sirens, no neighbourly warble ( both of boynton's neighbours indulge in regular bursts of maternal singing to young offspring, off-key, loudly). This morning she woke to the best sound in the world? - rain on a tin roof (although this sound file Extremely Heavy Rain Pound Tin Roof, Overflow In Gutter Hits Part Of Tin Roof, Mic'd at Open Window sounds more like a war zone).
Yesterday she was priviliged to be in the company of a couple of bona fide house-for-sale inspectors, so glimpsed inside some of the nearby facades. She alone fell in love with a classic 50's house, with original wooden fittings, pedestal basins, lino and lights, but whose large block condemns it - whose very depth is now regarded as wasted space. "Use your imagination" is the standard multiple dwelling sales pitch, a mercantile imagination - STCA (subject to council approval). Boynton uses hers and sees the room restored with some heritage artifacts - it would never look as hip as this - since most of her stuff falls into the eclectic/shabby chic/whimsical genre and unlike a few of the purists she knows, she never shies away from the chipped, the Non-tested or the "As Is" opportune find. (in fact most of her collection - like life itself - is "As Is")
This is a wonderful small pocket of cream brick and clinker post-war suburban villas that Robin Boyd may have condemned for their common old shows of featurism. Out walking last night it certainly seemed to boynton that every second house screamed squiggles - and she was perfectly under .02. Whether it's the lure of nostalgia or the pure suburban-recidivist instinct, boynton has lately renewed her affection (in a Howard Arkley kind of way) for these non-descript, non-architect designed, non-cosmopolitan squiggly streets
Yesterday she was priviliged to be in the company of a couple of bona fide house-for-sale inspectors, so glimpsed inside some of the nearby facades. She alone fell in love with a classic 50's house, with original wooden fittings, pedestal basins, lino and lights, but whose large block condemns it - whose very depth is now regarded as wasted space. "Use your imagination" is the standard multiple dwelling sales pitch, a mercantile imagination - STCA (subject to council approval). Boynton uses hers and sees the room restored with some heritage artifacts - it would never look as hip as this - since most of her stuff falls into the eclectic/shabby chic/whimsical genre and unlike a few of the purists she knows, she never shies away from the chipped, the Non-tested or the "As Is" opportune find. (in fact most of her collection - like life itself - is "As Is")
This is a wonderful small pocket of cream brick and clinker post-war suburban villas that Robin Boyd may have condemned for their common old shows of featurism. Out walking last night it certainly seemed to boynton that every second house screamed squiggles - and she was perfectly under .02. Whether it's the lure of nostalgia or the pure suburban-recidivist instinct, boynton has lately renewed her affection (in a Howard Arkley kind of way) for these non-descript, non-architect designed, non-cosmopolitan squiggly streets
Friday, May 16, 2003
Various takes on blogging - the laudatory (via Brain Graze) and the derogatory (via Anil Dash) the practical , and the theoretical in a great series of archived posts on the oral discourse of blogging at This Public Address.
Thought Nora and other music teachers and or Latin jazz fans might enjoy this hep cat keyboard. It's got Bronte in, and number 8 is a fairly good rendition of doug's lounge voice (via the Presurfer)
Thursday, May 15, 2003
Elsewhere indirectly boynton has been honoured with the slur: tree hugger. While she has never actually committed this arboreal act in public, she embraces the concept. Indeed she has often come close to hugging one of the many beautiful specimens of gums that line the river or reside in other people’s gardens. It's a fondness firmly rooted in the family tree – thick with gardeners, landscapers, nurserymen, (and axe-men). Her lovely nurseryman uncle loved (and lived) that well-known quotation And it was he with boynton’s father who one afternoon knocked up a small tree house in a Cyprus for boynton in her childhood. Best house boynton’s ever known. Living under the spell of The Magic Faraway Tree, Grandfather Gumtree, in Frank Dalby Davidson’s Children Of The Dark People or that wonderful Gum Tree house in The Magic Pudding.Maybe it's merely the Arcadian dream, or the folk memory of a primate, but she can understand that primal call of tree watching, tree climbing, and tree-top living. (via J walk)
When she was hunting down images of trees in the State Library of Victoria Pictures catalogue, she found this sobering list of titles, another kind of poem-generator
Tree feller’s feet in stirrups of safety harness
Timber! Tree falling after felling
Two men preparing to fell a tree
Man in harness preparing to fell a tree
Man up tree preparing to fell it
Four koalas on a tree branch
Koala and young in a tree
Three koalas on a tree branch
Man on horse watching axe-man felling tree
Axe making bottom mark on tree
When she was hunting down images of trees in the State Library of Victoria Pictures catalogue, she found this sobering list of titles, another kind of poem-generator
Tree feller’s feet in stirrups of safety harness
Timber! Tree falling after felling
Two men preparing to fell a tree
Man in harness preparing to fell a tree
Man up tree preparing to fell it
Four koalas on a tree branch
Koala and young in a tree
Three koalas on a tree branch
Man on horse watching axe-man felling tree
Axe making bottom mark on tree
Wednesday, May 14, 2003
A photo of Women playing hockey 1890 (that's ice to us in oz) (via Portage)
boynton saw that shot shortly after rediscovering this wonderful (ripping yarn) history of an English Croquet Championess Lily Gower. who sometimes was observed to make a meaningless shot into a corner of the ground. In point of fact, she was busy learning the game...we like the description of Lily's husband and fellow player Reginald Beaton (Was she then always Beaton?)
D.M.C. Prichard describes him as follows:- "Of slight build with a black Mephistophelian beard, bowing a little from the shoulders with an oddly loping walk, Beaton was not an exciting player, but he had a machinelike accuracy..." In September 1905, when he was asking for the hand of Lily in marriage, he wrote "I don't know that I have much to recommend me - beyond playing croquet and music, I am not much good."
The photographs are good too. ("Miss Insole" is a perfect- rather pinchable- name.)
Lately croquet's trollin' the blog like Pillikin, but as long as boynton stumbles across a link like this, she'll keep an anthropological eye out.
boynton saw that shot shortly after rediscovering this wonderful (ripping yarn) history of an English Croquet Championess Lily Gower. who sometimes was observed to make a meaningless shot into a corner of the ground. In point of fact, she was busy learning the game...we like the description of Lily's husband and fellow player Reginald Beaton (Was she then always Beaton?)
D.M.C. Prichard describes him as follows:- "Of slight build with a black Mephistophelian beard, bowing a little from the shoulders with an oddly loping walk, Beaton was not an exciting player, but he had a machinelike accuracy..." In September 1905, when he was asking for the hand of Lily in marriage, he wrote "I don't know that I have much to recommend me - beyond playing croquet and music, I am not much good."
The photographs are good too. ("Miss Insole" is a perfect- rather pinchable- name.)
Lately croquet's trollin' the blog like Pillikin, but as long as boynton stumbles across a link like this, she'll keep an anthropological eye out.
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Also thanks to the marvellous Solpsistic Gazette, another great found photo site Time Tales to browse slowly at leisure. What started as a webpage of novelties became a collection of lost lives . And while it may be that a picture needs memories to be an image boynton thinks they also need time. So she’s only briefly glimpsed the Fifties so far, but what treasures are there, reminiscent of one of mon favourite films, mon oncle.
Curiouser and curiouser as someone might say, re the secret life of croquet. Or perhaps boynton is now reading double and triple entendres into innocuous Xbourgeoisie lawn games. (thanks in part to a recent commenter) For when she saw Mallet Mischief over at The Solipsistic Gazette - alas she wasn't thinking Percussion . Is there something she never knew here? Of course she had read about the legendary "sextuple experience" ...
The funny thing was that the person sitting next to me trying to cheer me up and willing me to get a turn at least while I was being the victim of a Bamford Sextuple was Lionel Tibble, the victim of my own Sextuple some three months later
and heard the songs serenading the virtues of the nocturnal variety, but it's probably just as well boynton has an acute allergy to anything sold as Xtreme.
The funny thing was that the person sitting next to me trying to cheer me up and willing me to get a turn at least while I was being the victim of a Bamford Sextuple was Lionel Tibble, the victim of my own Sextuple some three months later
and heard the songs serenading the virtues of the nocturnal variety, but it's probably just as well boynton has an acute allergy to anything sold as Xtreme.
Monday, May 12, 2003
"For the loneliness and strangeness of your ways. Be greeted!" Boynton found this passage at Whiskey River affirming.
Another shot of the poem generator spawned this:
boynton has fallen in The op
shops held out
over the metaphysics of
the therapeutic
goal of storage
which is almost entering that hocus-pocus horoscope territory, that strange effectiveness in divination. Boynton has been out scouting op-shops in this subdued suburb: it is the way to get your boynton bearings. Alas, St Vincents was jam-packed . It was recommended by a lovely neighbour who has lived here for 37 years and talked to boynton tete a tete over the fence, like that standard routine of early TV, that primal puppet show.As she fled the madding crowd empty handed, she heard “Monday!” muttered like a curse by the otherwise chirpy sales team. Ideally you seek a bit of solace in an op shop, communing with old goods and the “flubber” of bric a brac. She found this in the smaller one up the street and could gaze at the ramekins and Strauss Waltzes until a telephone appeared, and she bought it "untested". As she walked back along the sleepy street she wondered if the overly shorn nature-strips would ever shame her into subscribing.
Later returning from a run in the park, Flo jumping over the low cream brick fences like a toddler.
Yesterday up in the country, boynton's sister took her out to view the block of land where she plans to build. As they discussed family and envisaged living rooms in the dusk, they were watched closely by a kangaroo.
boynton has fallen in The op
shops held out
over the metaphysics of
the therapeutic
goal of storage
which is almost entering that hocus-pocus horoscope territory, that strange effectiveness in divination. Boynton has been out scouting op-shops in this subdued suburb: it is the way to get your boynton bearings. Alas, St Vincents was jam-packed . It was recommended by a lovely neighbour who has lived here for 37 years and talked to boynton tete a tete over the fence, like that standard routine of early TV, that primal puppet show.As she fled the madding crowd empty handed, she heard “Monday!” muttered like a curse by the otherwise chirpy sales team. Ideally you seek a bit of solace in an op shop, communing with old goods and the “flubber” of bric a brac. She found this in the smaller one up the street and could gaze at the ramekins and Strauss Waltzes until a telephone appeared, and she bought it "untested". As she walked back along the sleepy street she wondered if the overly shorn nature-strips would ever shame her into subscribing.
Later returning from a run in the park, Flo jumping over the low cream brick fences like a toddler.
Yesterday up in the country, boynton's sister took her out to view the block of land where she plans to build. As they discussed family and envisaged living rooms in the dusk, they were watched closely by a kangaroo.
Saturday, May 10, 2003
boynton has been helping Nora unpack and arrange furniture - testing boynton's bad spatial concepts. The new house is very generous with a surfeit of storage (there is no such thing), but boynton comes to the task after years of cupboard deprivation, so is still overly cautious with breaking out the crockery and spreading the condiments and cannisters far and wide. Nora wanted to place a speaker against a small cupboard, but boynton could not allow such a spatial transgression. "I can never say no to a cupboard" she observed soberly "I will never ever reject a cupboard again". A symbolic portrait of the scene could be seen here, (boynton is not quite this old) with this detail capturing symbolically poor old Abby's senile gnashing of teeth when the arthritis strikes or the blue heeler interloper nips her heels or things jump off the shelf onto her. Last defence against life's little indignities.
The pictures above were found hunting down (on a tangent) Old Mother Hubbard. This is a wonderful early (1819) illustration of the verse which makes more and more sense in ethological terms as boynton turns hubbard. Flo the blue heeler interloper - who still looks to boynton (used to the dome head and pendulant ears of a labrador) like a dog wearing a super hero mask, has already drawn first verse.
from old boynton hubbard
She picked up The Age
to give her a scare
And when she made eye contact
Flo was laughing with that c’mon hit me hit me bravado because her active brain would rather latch onto any game even one wrapped up with a baddog reprimand than quietly contemplate her existance
She went to the park
to give them a run
and when she got there
Flo rushed a walking group of elderly citizens who fortunately found her amusing I think because it was such a sparkling morning full of philanthropy.
She went to the car
To take them all home
And when she looked up
Doug was fast wandering off up the middle of the road ga ga and deaf and cringed dreadfully when boynton hauled him back by his collar at a mad trotting pace.
boynton will keep working on the metre.
The pictures above were found hunting down (on a tangent) Old Mother Hubbard. This is a wonderful early (1819) illustration of the verse which makes more and more sense in ethological terms as boynton turns hubbard. Flo the blue heeler interloper - who still looks to boynton (used to the dome head and pendulant ears of a labrador) like a dog wearing a super hero mask, has already drawn first verse.
from old boynton hubbard
She picked up The Age
to give her a scare
And when she made eye contact
Flo was laughing with that c’mon hit me hit me bravado because her active brain would rather latch onto any game even one wrapped up with a baddog reprimand than quietly contemplate her existance
She went to the park
to give them a run
and when she got there
Flo rushed a walking group of elderly citizens who fortunately found her amusing I think because it was such a sparkling morning full of philanthropy.
She went to the car
To take them all home
And when she looked up
Doug was fast wandering off up the middle of the road ga ga and deaf and cringed dreadfully when boynton hauled him back by his collar at a mad trotting pace.
boynton will keep working on the metre.
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