Those of you who have been around here for a while ...

... will know all about this aeroplane as you have seen it all before. It's KB882, a Lancaster from World War II and it is one of only three "combat veterans" still in existence. It flew to Edmundston airport under its own steam in 1964 and ever since then it's been stuck outside in all kinds of weather gradually deteriorating.

I spotted it in 2001 and ever since then I've been fighting single-handedly (I do other things with my other hand) to persuade the clowns in whose hands this historic machine has fallen to surrender it up to the Imperial War Museum or some other worthy organisation who can put a stop to this disgraceful neglect and get it back into the air before it falls apart.

In 2006 I was told that things might be happening and so being only 150 miles away from it I drove out this afternoon to see what they have done.

And the answer is -
1) they've put a better fence around it
2) they've raised it off the ground
3) ... errrr .....
4) that's it.

What is happening to this machine is nothing short of a national scandal, a total disgrace and the city of Edmundston should be thoroughly ashamed of itself. In the 9 years since I last saw it it has simply rotted away even further.

So having expected that, my blood has been boiling all day and it'll continue to boil for a while I suppose.

and that's not all I've done. I retraced my steps from 2001 and took a few pics of the falls at Grand Sault with the water actually unfrozen, as well as a few other photos of interest.

But I did get sidetracked a little. From Rachel and Darren's house I could see some wind turbines way in the distance to the north of Centreville and so I wandered off for a look. And at one stage I was so close to them that I could almost touch them, and my route then led off down a little country lane.

And here I came to a dead stop as here on this hill the road also comes to a dead stop. This is a frontier between the USA and Canade, and an unguarded one at that, although I do suspect that the barbed wire, searchlights and machine guns are in that forest somewhere and that the purpose of the wind turbines is not to power up the local villages but to power the spy machines lurking in the woods.

The actual border is that orange fence to the left and this building here, Darren seems to think, might possibly be the old Canadian customs post from when this was a personned crossing back in the distant past.

And it's for sale, even though it's totally derelict.

And I have a cunning plan.

Now just suppose I buy it and demolish the property that's on it. I could erect a huge billboard and use it to display Anti-American slogans and then set up some loudspeakers to broadcast propaganda messages into the USA from here. If it works for the North Koreans who habitually do this to the South, no reason why I can't do it from here into the USA.

I have been severely critical ...

..."What, you, Eric? Shurely shome mishtake" - ed ... about the way that people in North America treat their heritage. And not just on the odd occasion either. And not just in one country, as a matter of fact. However I do recognise that there are some people who are making a valiant effort.

I am ashamed to say that in my own neck of the woods the lack of interest in culture and heritage and all of this is just as apparent as it is in North America. And that is just what is on public view. There is much more that is going on behind closed (and locked doors) that the public never has the opportunity to see.

I've been on my travels today and one of the places I visited was the Fete des Myrtilles at St Julien-la-Geneste. There was an art exhibition taking place in the church and Marianne the local journalist was there to photograph it. She blagged her way into the church tower to take a photo of the exhibition and asked me whether I would like to go - she knows that I have an interest in boldly going where the hand of man has never set foot.

And so up in the tower it was - and this was the sight that greeted me. I know that Medieval religious art is two-a-penny and not usually particularly good but that is no reason in my opinion to just chuck it in a corner out of the way where no-one is ever likely to go and just leave it there to fester, to let rats and mice make a nest for it and when in 100 years time everyone has forgotten all about it, quietly burn it somewhere in a lonely field.

According to Marianne it is something to do with the Chemin de la Croix which is something that means nothing to me but seems to be of some kind of significance. Marianne was pretty busy so I didn't have time to ask her but I'm seeing her at a meeting tomorrow night and so I will interrogate her.

But it appals me how people can treat significant objects in this despicable fashion . Yes, I'm having another "Lancaster Bomber" moment, aren't I?

Things weren't any better up in the top of the tower either. I took the opportunity to shin up the rickety wooden ladder and force the trapdoor into the bell housing. And I bet no-one had been up there for fifty years either.

There were three bells in the belfry and the original pulling gear was all there, although disconnected for centuries. One bell was electrically connected to chime the hours and half-hours (Terry asked me how they managed in view of the frequent power cuts that they have around here), the second (slightly smaller) was still hanging but disconnected and the third, the smallest of the trio, had been taken down and just flung in a corner.

Of course, just as I stuck my head into the bell housing, the clock chimed half-past three.
"I bet Marianne did that on purpose" said Terry.
"I don't know why you are complaining" said Marianne. "You should be grateful that it wasn't twelve o'clock". It's nice to have friends.

The Canadian with his bagpipes was there at the fete and he entertained the crowd for a short while and then I came home. I helped Lieneke with her gardening for a while and then Terry and Liz came round for the scaffolding. They invited me back for tea which was nice of them and as Liz had baked vegan ginger cake I gratefully accepted. I was even given a doggy bag!

But earlier in the day I'd been to the brocante at Le Quartier. I had had a good day there, spending a whole €10:50 on a map of the French railway system in 1962, a hold-down switch for my doorbell, a kind-of lance for weed control, a ladle for the composting toilet and - biggest prize of all - a heavy-duty electric paint sprayer. Jerome from Pionsat's 3rd XI was there too and we had a good chat.

But I'm on the warpath again about these paintings.