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English: "A Mad Dog in a Coffee-House" (1809) by Rowlandson, showing a rabid dog terrorizing a coffee house in 18th century England (possibly Garrison's or Jonathan's, near the Exchange)


Such chaos! Such mayhem!

Okay, that's all I've got. There's a caricature in here somewhere, but I'd have to do a little research to figure it out. Unfortunately, I don't have the time...

Once again, I need to take an extended coffee break, aka temporary blog hiatus.  I knew I was having a minor problem when I kept starting posts with no time to finish them.

  • The introduction of chocolate into 17th England? A fascinating tale of politics and intrigue, but one that will have to wait.

  • The real story of St. Patrick...Happy St. Palladius Day anyone?  Yup, I wanted to tell that tale too, but ran out of time. I'll tell it next year.

So I'll be finishing gallons of coffee in my attempt to balance work, teaching and writing...all while doing publicity stuff for A Murder at Rosamund's Gate...did I mention that it's coming out April 23? :-)   But I'll be back soon!

In the meantime, I'll leave you with the above image as a writing prompt. What's going on here?  What schemes are afoot? Or most simply of all, Who let the dog in?  Happy writing!


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A QUICK EXPLANATION OF THE IMAGE!!!

I just had to research the meaning behind this image (despite being on my self-imposed blog hiatus).   In doing so,  I came across this interesting work by Joseph Grego, who wrote extensively about Rowlandson in 1922. He offers an interesting explanation of the painting that gets at the shifting economic concerns at the time.

In his own inimitable words, Grego writes:

"March 20, 1809. The advent of a nondescript animal, … assumed to be a ferocious mad dog, has produced the utmost terror and confusion amongst the grave frequenters of a mercantile coffee-house… All the city brokers, and pillars of change found therein are seared out of their sober senses; some…are paralyzed with fear; others are trying to creep under the tables; a few are seeking escape by the door which they are effectually blocking; and groups of affrighted fugitives are endeavoring to gain the refuge of the staircase….Comfortable citizens are thrown on their backs, like turtles, and trodden on, while the pressure of viler bodies above is expressing a stream of specie from the well-filled pockets of the overthrown…."

So what does all this mean? 


Essentially, something seemingly innocuous has pervaded the economy, and it will cause mayhem. The explanation for this mayhem apparently can be found on the advertisment (notice) stuck on the back wall, which offers an important piece of shipping intelligence.


The notice warns 'lay off Barking Creek," the location of a large fishing fleet in London.

Barking Creek...rabid dog, get it? 

 
(but now back to writing!)

 
 
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the gauntlet has been thrown
I've been in Brownsville Texas doing some talks, so I didn't notice right away that Jaynes had thrown down a gauntlet.

I had written about how writers might choose to describe scenery Or,  they could instead have their characters interact with scenery as they would another character. So just for fun I dashed off my first and only attempt at science fiction. (I write mysteries, remember!!!).

So Jaynes wrote:
"I would be amused if everyone took a shot at a paragraph describing what happened next with the pebble. I think I sense some other writers responding on this blog. We could see how we measure up to your talent...Little friendly competition..."


DONE! GAUNTLET ACCEPTED!  I've given you the prompt--now you can write the next paragraph. Tell us what those "pebbles" really are!

"As Larry stepped cautiously down from his craft,  his boot sunk a little deeper down into Gale Crater than he had expected. What he had thought would be thickly-layered bedrock was actually more sponge-like in its composition. This was not the first time the Motherland's Minister of Science had been wrong about a planet. He kicked one of the many brown pebbles strewn across the landscape. "It's going to take me forever to get to Mount Sharp," he muttered to himself.  "Why'd the General tell me to land here? The mountain's  at least three kilometers to the north."  He checked the temperature gauge on his suit. 46 degrees. "Geez,  it's dropped at least 10 degrees since I landed."  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the pebbles move. "Uh, oh." He groaned. "That's no pebble!"


Well...if it's not a pebble...what the heck is it? You tell me!