Sunday 4th October 2009 - Still Flying the Flag

The fly has left. As I opened the door to go out, it appeared and zoomed off. I'm obviously not enough of a challenge. It was probably reading my blog over my shoulder last night and liked the fencing idea. It's gone off to find the local fencing champion. Or perhaps, like that wonderful opening scene in "Once upon a Time in the West", it is seeking out bored gunmen and flying up their barrels. Perhaps it wasn't French, perhaps it was Italian.

It being Sunday, I thought it time to run back down to Glasgow and see if anyone was home; waiting till after church, of course. There really are very few people to find.

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So I decide it might be a better idea to look round where those extremely expensive works were built. And that did turn out to be more profitable. A large black dog came racing out of the woods, barking vigorously, followed in short order by a young man on a quad bike. The dog had clearly been racing through a lot of vegetation: it looked (and felt) like it had been camouflaged by Dad's Army.

The young man was very helpful. He identified the one remaining building as "part of the train station". Just like Glasgow, Blackhawk County, Iowa.

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"All that's left are piles of bricks in the woods", he said. The newspapers at the time said there were two million of them. I just had to find some

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He told me the owner knew all about the history of the place. But he wasn't here. I left my card, and said I would come back to try and find him.

The best part of all was the name of the farm

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(that's the dog, by the way).

And not only was the farm flying the ubiquitous Stars and Strips, underneath was the Scottish Saltire

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