grayer still
Dodging rain all day; we managed to get our heart rates above a flatline. A very colorful chapter in Felix Holt deliniates hubbub on an election day which degenerates into a riot. Only men of property, from a minimum level on up, were permitted to go to a polling place to publicly voice their votes. Along the way, as the day wore on, various factions massed, making heading to the polling place a literal running of a gauntlet. Missiles were thrown, such as raw potatoes, and then harder items; a couple of men were trampled to death. Ah, dignified England, our gleaming standard.
4 Comments:
Harder than raw potatoes? ;-)
Your description reminds me of early union strike stories in the US. But then, it was men, women, and children.
They got into a hardware store, imp, and were throwing metal pointy things...
Ah, the old carthartic days of yore!
Well, you've certainly mastered our irony, Isabelita!
I don't know about mastering it, Dick; I think it's seeping into my brain while reading all these Eliot novels this summer!
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