Well, Boydtown is very nearly finished now and the church he built on the hill is gutted and crumbling and surrounded by a cyclone wire fence to prevent looters pinching the bricks.

One of the follies of mankind or perhaps one of the most adventur­ous dreams it is hard to say. Boyd, perhaps was possessed by both spirits.

His dream is now invaded by lesser spirits and reading the bawdy verse in the bar it is hard to imagine that you are standing in the inn of a man of great vision. The sound of surf on a beach of perfect sand is per­haps closer to Boyd’s spirit than the vestige of his empire that remains.